Exiles From The Sacred Land (Book 2)

by Mark Tyson

  Walking back to the inn, Tatrice felt increasingly woozy, and Bren did not fare much better. The euphoric effects of the alcohol were wearing off, replaced with slight nausea. The strong drink Ni’esa and Mo’rune had given them also made them drowsy. They staggered into the gardens next to the inn’s side entrance before Bren stopped.

  “I had a nice time with you tonight, but I must admit that I am completely drunk,” he said with a half grin.

  “That makes two of us. I am glad you are a gentleman,” she said to deter him from feeling the need to kiss her goodnight. “I am sure Dorenn would be happy to know you are a gentleman too.” Her words came out shaky and clipped, almost silly.

  “Aye, I am a dragon knight,” he slurred. “I am never compromised, and I am sharp as a dragon fang, quite immune to your womanly wiles, my lady.”

  Both stopped and stared into each other’s eyes with forbidden longing.

  Tatrice shied away first from Bren and turned her head; she knew what the look on his face meant. When he put his hand on her shoulder, she turned back to him. He moved his face closer, and before she knew it, his lips were pressed against hers. She felt the urge to pull away but didn’t. Bren’s lips were softer than she expected, and she melted in his embrace. Dorenn flashed for a moment in her mind, and she managed to push back on Bren’s chest. He pulled her back in, and that was the last of Tatrice’s resistance.

  “Hmm hmm, what is this then?” It was Shadesilver, walking up the garden path. Bren and Tatrice separated in one quick motion.

  “Nothing, it’s nothing,” Tatrice’s words were garbled.

  Shadesilver eyed Tatrice with suspicion. “What has happened between you two?”

  “Nothing. We were just coming back from the Winterhaven celebration. We both had a little too much drink and—”

  “I should say so,” Shadesilver interrupted. “What do you have to say for yourself, Bren?”

  “It is as Tatrice has told, my lady dragon.”

  Shadesilver moved closer to Tatrice until she was just inches away. “There is something more. I can sense magic, not essence wielding or dragon magic, but magic.”

  “Oh, yes, we both got an imprint to unify us as dragon knights. You know, dragon knight soldiers. Here, look.” She offered Shadesilver her hand. Bren held his hand up too.

  “Oh, no, a matching western imprint done at Winterhaven.” Shadesilver was distressed. “Please tell me there wasn’t another person there asked to witness?”

  “Aye, her husband. She said she wanted to make sure that we were serious because the imprint was permanent,” Tatrice told her.

  “Did you say it like that?”

  “Like what?” Tatrice was confused.

  “Did you say you wanted to be united as dragon knights?”

  “I believe so.” Tatrice was worried at Shadesilver’s tone. “Why, what’s wrong?”

  Shadesilver closed her eyes and rubbed her hand on her forehead before addressing Bren. “Oh, Bren, I expected more from you. Tatrice is naïve, but you have been out in the world.”

  Bren looked confused. “All right, you are beginning to make me nervous. What are you concerned about?”

  “This is a western Winterhaven tradition. You two idiots just got married!”

  Fayne cradled Kimala’s head in her arms. The poison had been swift, and Fayne had no time to react, which is what Trendan, no doubt, had in mind when he administered it. Fayne waited patiently while tears streamed down her face, not tears of sadness or mourning, but tears of abject anger. Fayne knew her mother well; she knew the story of why she had to leave her family, why she had become a spy, and what gifts she possessed. The anger was for Trendan. She had trusted him to trust her, and he had chosen to betray her.

  Kimala, who was cold as stone, began to writhe in Fayne’s arms, but Fayne held her close just like the resentment she now had for Trendan. A few moments more and the writhing abated. Kimala’s eyes popped open, and she sat upright next to Fayne.

  “I should have smelled the poison in that concoction,” she said. “I must be losing my edge, or I am becoming too trusting.”

  “Probably a little of both,” Fayne responded. “Just bless your luck he had not decided to put an arrow through your eye instead.”

  “Aye, it is good fortune that he is ignorant to whom I am. It pays to keep secrets. Always remember that, Fayne.”

  “Is there any poison that can actually kill you?”

  “Secrets, dear,” Kimala said, smiling. “You never know what someone may do to you for such information if I told you. Let’s just say there has not been one as of yet. Many have tried, all have failed.” Fayne thought she saw a veil of sadness in her mother’s expression. “Now, dear Fayne, we have a dilemma. Go after Trendan, who will rendezvous with Dorenn and his party now that he believes me to be dead, or head for Enowene for further instructions in her plan.” She rose from her sitting position and dusted off her backside. “It’s not actually a dilemma at all, is it? Everything we want leads to Dorenn and his party, doesn’t it?”

  “I will prepare the remaining provisions and strike the camp, Mother. I doubt he will be covering his trail. He thinks you are dead and that I will pursue him for revenge. He will wait somewhere ahead in ambush.”

  “Aye, he will, but he will get more than he bargained for if he does.” Kimala scoured the ground for signs of his trail. “I have found his trail. To be honest, I am not sure we actually need to catch up with him. We just need to follow him to the others. If he believes me dead and tells the others that I am dead, it is to our advantage.”

  “How does he know where to go to meet them?”

  “He knows somehow, my dear. Either he was told in advance or he has figured it out, but he knows where to go.”

  “What about Vesperin? Trendan knows I am your daughter. He will try to warn him.”

  “Aye, he will, but it won’t matter. Vesperin will be able to sense the good in you and will not question it.”

  “I pray you are right, Mother.”

  “Naturally, I’m right. I have been doing this sort of cat and mouse game a long time.” Kimala kissed Fayne on the forehead. “Now, I will cast a spell to enhance Trendan’s trail. If he is waiting in ambush, we will know, and eventually he will give up when he believes you are no longer following him, and move on.”

  Fayne gathered up the provisions, suppressed her feelings deep in her heart, and followed her mother.

  Chapter 12: The Lost Army

  Ganas clung to the dragon Andelwyre for dear life. The fiery-red dragon flew at breakneck speed. She was selected especially because of her speed. He considered this the most difficult part of the journey to Denogia, because they were over nothing but water for three days. It was his first day over water, and he was worried about flying all night; he was already exhausted from clinging too tight and holding on. Man was not meant to travel this way, he thought.

  He was relieved when, just before nightfall, Andelwyre spiraled down to a small island. She let him down on a sandy beach, and his legs buckled.

  “I will never get used to riders,” Andelwyre said. “You take them away from the ground for a few hours and they cannot stand up anymore.”

  “We have been flying more than a few hours; it’s been more like eleven hours,” he retorted.

  “Two hours, eleven hours, it does not matter,” she said. “I saw cooking fires on the other side of the island. Where there are cooking fires, there are people, and most folks this far east have never seen a dragon. I would be loath to show myself.”

  Ganas removed the packs of provisions and other items from Andelwyre’s back. “Do dragons live this far east?”

  “Aye, they do, but not in numbers. The people of Denogia hunted and killed out most of their dragons because the food there was scarce, and therefore, the competition for it was high. I will sleep here in your form.”

  “My form?”

  “You know, the form of man, like you saw in Draegodor. Dragons learned ho
w to take the form when my kind protected man. It was easier to mingle among you, and eventually, it was easier to meet with your kind looking like you.”

  “I knew what you meant. I thought you were saying you were going to take my form, you know, look exactly like me, my twin, or something. It was just the way you phrased it.”

  The great red dragon shimmered and condensed down into a rather stunning beauty with auburn hair and blue eyes. She wore leather pants and a light cotton blouse with a smart-looking leather vest.

  “How do you make the clothes when you change?”

  “It’s all part of the magic.”

  “Why is it that all dragons in human form are so beautiful? Do you take on the semblance of what you would look like as a man? I mean, do other dragons find you as attractive in dragon form?”

  “Such odd questions you ask. If you could change your form into a dragon, would you be an old, ugly drake, or would you change into a beautiful, magnificent creature? What you think is the ideal dragon is just as beautiful to us as our concept of beauty is when we look like you. I think Vex made us all that way. Dragons and man are intertwined.”

  Ganas nodded. “I never thought of it that way.”

  Andelwyre strolled about the tropical tree line, looking for a nice spot to bed down. Ganas followed along, dragging the provisions pack.

  “You can leave the pack; I am not planning on wandering far.”

  “Oh, no, rule number one of scouting is to never leave your essentials behind where they can be taken from you. Scouts do not usually carry a lot of equipment, but what we do carry stays with us.”

  “That seems cumbersome.”

  “Like I said, we usually don’t carry a lot, just essentials.”

  At last, Andelwyre found some soft, thick grass under a clump of trees she was satisfied with. Ganas settled the pack and hunted wood for a fire. When he returned, Andelwyre decided that a fire was not a good idea. After a meal of dried meat and bread that Ganas was certain didn’t satisfy Andelwyre at all, they curled up next to each other and slept through the night. Andelwyre’s form was so pleasing to Ganas, he had to constantly remind himself that he was actually sleeping cuddled up to a dragon.

  The next morning, Andelwyre had changed back into dragon form and caught several fish out at sea. She was a little annoyed when Ganas insisted on cooking his share, as it took too much time.

  By late morning, they were in the skies again, speeding toward Denogia. Ganas wondered how she knew which direction she was flying, or even where Denogia was. The second night went much like the first night. Andelwyre found an island to land on, and they slept under the stars. By the third night, they had reached the shores of Denogia.

  Andelwyre found a secluded spot high on a rock shelf in the middle of a great seaside cliff where she was satisfied they were safe and isolated enough from the eyes and ears of the nearby people of Denogia.

  The following morning, Andelwyre flew Ganas to the area that Theosus had given him through the Lora Daine. She made sure to land far enough away from the main camp to not be seen by the outlook soldiers. Ganas wanted her to stay away from the camp until he assessed the situation. If a dragon flew into camp, the men being in a foreign land, they might attack her as a hostile, and if she walked with him as a woman into camp, that might cause a whole new problem. After she flew away, Ganas made sure he was in the proper dress to make sure the men would see him as a scout for the army, and then he headed out across the flat prairie.

  Clumps of mesquite trees dotted the landscape, with larger elm trees and other trees Ganas could not identify littered here and there. He came to a denser area of trees and discovered there was a small stream running through. The camp would not be far from the water source.

  As he neared a good-sized cluster of trees, he was confused as to why he did not see any outlooks. Even if they were hidden, he was trained as a scout to spot them. He pushed through the trees and saw a vast clearing with scores of tents and cold campfire pits. He stalked up to the first tent and caught its wind-blown opening flap and peered inside. The contents were all disheveled; it did not look like anyone had lived there in quite a while. He made his way to each consecutive tent and found the same thing. Some of them still had the bedclothes in them and some didn’t, as if some of the blankets were hastily pulled out.

  Ganas decided to go ahead and call out to see if anyone was in the camp at all. He identified himself as a scout for the army and called out several times in each regiment section of the camp. Finally, as he neared the last row of tents, he saw a face appear out of one of the larger command tents pitched to the side of the regiments, which would house the officers for that particular area.

  “Scout, in here, hurry, and stop your damnable shouting!”

  Ganas hurried to the tent with his hand grasping his bow just in case. The man he had seen held back the flap as he entered. Inside, there were a group of about eighteen men. Some officers were seated at the command table while the others sat on the ground lining the edge of the tent. Ganas saluted the officers. “Scout Ganas Nashe reporting.” The highest-ranking officer saluted back, and Ganas relaxed. The officer had a scruffy grey beard and a weatherworn face. He seemed pleasant enough to Ganas.

  “No need to be so formal here, scout,” the officer said. “Where in the seven shards of Venifyre did you come from? You have obviously not been here for the last six seasons if you are still following protocol.”

  “Sir? Protocol is no longer being observed in this camp?”

  He eyed Ganas for a long moment, sizing him up. “Are you some kind of spy, Ganas Nashe? Did Jac send you here?”

  “I am sorry, sir. I don’t know any Jac. I am not a spy, and you are correct—I have not been here for the past six seasons. I was sent here by Morgoran and Ianthill.” He left out Theosus and King Amarantus. He was not sure how they would feel about dragons sending him.

  The men began to murmur, and the officer waved his hand for them to remain silent. “Morgoran Cleareyes? I was not aware he was able to send anyone. The last I heard, he was in the Vale of Morgoran, a stark-raving madman.”

  “The curse was lifted. He is aware of what happened to this army, and he has sent me to assess the situation and see if we can find a way to return you to Symboria. Naneden has taken and occupied Lux Enor. He controls all of southern Symboria and the Sacred Land.”

  “Of course he does. We were supposed to stop him, but instead, we are here. What does Morgoran propose he can do about it?”

  “I am not privy to that information, sir, I am only a scout. I do have a message for General Rellagorn.”

  “Well, scout, it seems you are too late. The general is dead, killed by his own traitorous men four full moons after we were stuck here. For the last two full moons, these men and I have remained in this camp while the rest of the army seized control of Anisport, the most populated nearby city.”

  “Murdered how?”

  “We were stuck here without a train of supplies. The food ran out a couple of full moons after we arrived. Hunting parties kept us stocked with food for another full moon; however, the people of Anisport didn’t care much for us being here, and they certainly did not like us encroaching on their game, and later, on their fish when we started fishing the stream and the waters near their city. They were extremely nervous that an army of foreigners were camped so close. They asked us to find food and water elsewhere. General Rellagorn tried to explain our presence here, but the city elders did not care. Some of the men were outraged when General Rellagorn gave the order to pull up stakes. The men felt we should stay close to the coast for rescue. To get to the point, an officer named Jac Wills killed the general and took control of the army. We left while they planned the invasion of Anisport. After the deed was done, we returned here with Jac’s blessing, since there is nowhere else we can go without the locals wanting us dead. Of late, we have been getting reports that Jac is becoming restless and he wants us to either join him or die. We also hear that th
e king of Denogia is planning to send his army here to oust ours. It seems reports have reached his ears of the brutality of the invasion.”

  Ganas was dumbfounded. “This is all that remains loyal to the highlord’s army?”

  “It is. The highlord’s throne is empty, or was when we left. Jac used that fact to convince the men that they were no longer bound by their oaths. You cannot serve and protect a non-existent highlord, after all.”

  “The throne is still empty. Naneden will never be crowned!”

  “Why hasn’t the Silver Drake selected a new one?”

  “The Silver Drake is missing, stolen; no one knows where she is.”

  The officer chuckled. “Looks to me like Naneden will take the throne whether crowned or not.”

  “It was hoped that after I found this army, I could discover a way to return you to Symboria and get rid of Naneden.”

  “Not likely. You see, Drasmyd Duil and Dramyds miraculously showed up and helped Jac seize Anisport; they infest the city now. The rest of the army acts as if they are under some kind of spell. Friends I have known since I was a young boy do not even recognize me. It is my belief that the men you see here are somehow immune to the spell, and that is why we are now a threat to Jac. It’s only a matter of time before they send for us. You are in danger here. You should leave while you can. This army is more than just missing from Symboria. It is forever lost!”

  Tatrice was horrified. She started rubbing the imprint as if it would simply come off. “What do we do, Shadesilver? I can’t be married to Bren.”

  “Thanks for that. Bren said.

  “I don’t mean it that way. You are a wonderful man. I just can’t be married because of Dorenn.”

  Shadesilver shrugged. “You aren’t betrothed to him, are you? What does it hurt?”