Trovin changed the course of the conversation by posing the question of the evening.
"So, if we are to help Sir Jory and Sam, how do we make up the two-day lead they have on us? They are on horses and we are on foot."
There was a long silence in which all eyes would have turned to Braxton for an answer had he not been wiping tears from the corners of them. As it was, all eyes were on him anyway. He hoped no one expected him to respond but, eventually, he did.
"You say the city called Greenswatch is where they are going, and it is still three more days ride for them?"
"At least," Trovin answered.
"Then by morning, I will have an answer to your question." He turned to Chureal and asked, "Where has Cobalt gone?"
"To fetch us some meat." She gave him a sympathetic smile.
Within a heartbeat, Cryelos was on his feet. He was swinging his sword to cut the grass down to the dirt. It took him only a few moments to clear a space and dig a fire pit. Once he was done, he started breaking apart the cart Trovin had pulled his sister with, and before long, it was all in properly sized pieces for them to have a fire for the night.
When they were done, Cryelos looked to be in a panic as he searched through what gear they had for something that apparently wasn't there. Chureal started to ignite the fire with her magic, but Braxton stopped her and all four humans watched as the elf grew frantic in his quest for a way to spark a flame so that he could cook the coming meat.
The twins, who didn't really know what was happening, watched curiously, wondering why Chureal and Braxton were snickering.
Happy to have something to keep his mind off his losses, it didn't take long before Braxton couldn't contain his mirth. He and Chureal burst into laughter, and he told her to spare the elf.
With little more than a thought, Chureal pointed at the pile of wood and flames slowly crackled into existence. Cryelos was so relieved that he didn't even get angry. "As frustrated as I am, it's good to see the two of you laughing again."
It wasn't long until Cobalt came flapping back down among them. The air from his wings flattened the flames and the grass around them. The sun was starting to set, but the glaze in his eyes and the blood smeared all over his maw was still plainly visible. In one of his hind claws, he carried a crippled, but still wiggling goat. The creature's terrified bleating would have been heart-wrenching had Braxton not been so hungry.
Cryelos ended the creature's suffering and had freshly skinned meat on the fire so quickly, though, that no one had time to voice any sympathy.
Wisely, Chureal hid behind Braxton, not wanting to see the elf's bloody work. Apparently, Trava had no desire to see the goat butchered either, because she, too, huddled behind Braxton, putting herself a little too close for his comfort.
It wasn't long until the savory smell of roasting meat had them spread around the fire's flickering glare. The three men sat talking about the weapons and skill of those who had taken Sir Jory and Sammani.
Cobalt had laid himself at the edge of the fire's light, his tail curled into Chureal's lap. His shiny scales reflected a thousand tiny camp fires all in concert with each other. The effect was mesmerizing and hypnotic, and as night crept fully upon them, the sensation became that much more intense.
They ate their fill, though, Braxton chose to eat only a little, for he was taking the first watch with Trovin and didn't want to make himself sleepy. Cryelos ate so much that he was complaining that his stomach hurt. Chureal jokingly said that he sounded like Prince Darblin, but then she began to cry because he was dead now.
Braxton held her and soothed her until she fell asleep in his arms. When he went to sit her down, one of Cobalt's fist-sized eyes opened and his tail curled into a basket-like bed for her.
Not a word passed between Braxton and the dragon, but the look they shared after Braxton set her gently into the scaly cradle spoke volumes. Braxton thought the dragon might have been smiling.
Out of courtesy, Braxton offered his heavy winter cloak for Trava to sleep on, and she graciously accepted. She laid at the edge of the firelight, fully aware that he could see her watching him as he sat cross-legged, and allowed the flames dancing on Cobalt's scales to carry him into the void.
In a matter of moments, the glittering reflections faded and the empty blackness that replaced them was soon punctured with the jewel's sparkling facets. He let himself slip into the intensity until he could feel the warm night whipping past his white feathered wings.
Having split his soul, part of him now circled high above the camp as a white falcon while the rest of him sat silently by the fire.
His keen avian eyes could see well enough in the dark to pick out a tiny mouse hiding in the high grass from a few hundred feet in the sky, and as he raced on the warm winds northward to spy on the king's men who had taken Sir Jory and Sam, he first sought the fires of the village. There was only one, and a few people sat around it while an older, ragged dressed man argued with an even older woman.
Braxton could have flown low and listened to the conversation, but what they were speaking of was of no concern to him, and from what Chureal and Trovin had told him, he probably wouldn't have understood the harsh Perdun language anyway.
After circling higher over them, he found the wagon path that led north from the village and followed the parallel ruts. He had to work himself up high twice, and then glide down from the heights. Then finally, at the end of his third streak across the swaying moonlit sea of grass, he saw the king's men and their fire.
It was a small blaze, probably due to the lack of wood out on the plain, but it gave enough light for him to see the two men watching from the darkness behind the wagon cage and the two other men laughing and joking by the fire. One of the men was older and balding and looked to be the leader. He was the louder one, and Braxton saw him well by the light of the flames. Six more men slept on bed rolls around the fire, but just out of its flickering light. Two other men slept on the back of a flat wagon between some bundles and a keg. Looking closer, Braxton saw that it was a man and a woman sleeping on the flat wagon. Both of them were wearing similar leather and ring mail armor. Near them lay several heavy crossbows like he'd once seen depicted in the Hall of Scholars back in Camberly. There was also a stack of wicked looking swords.
He landed quietly on the other wagon, the wheeled cage, as Trovin called it, and he perched there for a long time, studying everything he could think to take in. The twelve king's men, or Prince Venom's men, or whoever they were, were totally unaware of his presence.
He wished more than once that he could understand the words that the two men by the fire were saying. He could hear them plain enough, but as he'd been told, the language was foreign and harsh. When he was satisfied he had seen all he could from that vantage point, he silently glided to the other wagon where the man and woman slept. From there, he could see into the cage, but just enough to make out two finely dressed forms curled up into the shadows of the cage floor. His keen eyes picked up the faint movement of their breathing while he studied the rolling prison and how it was made.
It wasn't built very well and would probably be easy to escape from if there weren't twelve armed riders around who would hear the noise it would take to get free. He still had no idea how they could help the knight and the hand maiden, but he was sure that he could think of something. Before he left, he flew down into the grass under the wheeled cage and looked at its construction from underneath.
An idea stuck him, and he worked his way to the front of the cage, which was awkward for him to do without his wings. There, he found the harness straps that would be buckled around the horses to pull the wheeled cage when the group started up again. He savaged them with his razor-sharp beak until they were almost severed, but not near the buckles or hook loops where an alert man might notice. He wasn't sure if his idea would work, but it was the only idea he had so far, and he doubted it could hurt. If the straps broke through, it would definitely slow them down.
&n
bsp; Then, just to have some fun before he left, he flew out into the fire light and landed on the stern-looking bald man's head. He was only there for half of a heartbeat, but he let out a screeching call and ripped six gashes across the man's fleshy pate before shooting away into the night. Behind him, he could hear the whole camp coming awake and the sound of steel being drawn. The man's terrified screams were probably as much from pain as fear, and just to add some effect, he let out another blood-chilling call.
Less than halfway back to the village, Braxton noticed something else. A sudden movement in the high grass far below. The movement was far too big for a mouse, or even a fox or coyote. Whatever sort of creature it was, it piqued his curiosity, so he circled lower for a better look. To his surprise, it was a man. He was dressed in well-worn wool like the villagers. Braxton figured him to be a straggler from the village, probably scared away when the king's men, or Cobalt and Chureal had come.
The man was sleeping fitfully, Braxton saw. He tossed and turned over again, causing a big stretch of the high grass to waiver and rustle against his side. No doubt this movement was what had caught the falcon's eyes in the first place. Confident that there was nothing of interest about the haggard-looking fellow, Braxton circled and headed toward the village.
There, he landed atop one of the thatched roofs and surveyed the area. It looked to him like the people were herders or breeders of some sort. Remembering all the extra horses tethered with the king's men, and Trovin's story of going there to buy a horse in the first place, assured him his assessment was correct.
There were goats still pinned up behind some of the crude mudbrick structures, and a circular breaking pen near several stall-like fenced areas set on one side against the vast green plain. There were a few cows in another pen.
It dawned on him that this sea of grass could sustain thousands of horses, goats, and cattle. He decided to ask Trovin about it when he was back inside himself. The prince told him that his group had come to the village to look at a stud, and Braxton figured the people here were not alone. There were probably several more groups of them scattered about the grassy expanse. He was about to fly back when he spied a small piece of shiny metal laying in the wheel ruts of the cart path. Without bothering to see what it was, he swooped down and snatched it with his claws and sped back toward his friends.
Princess Trava was still wide awake, but lying very still. She'd watched the strange young man, Lord Braxton, as he went into his trance-like state. She'd grown up around High Wizard Jorvan and other castle wizards, but had never, until Chureal came along, met a dragon-rider. She'd read about them, though, and heard rumors that one of them had come not so long ago to Quintalia to fight the changed ones. Her father had shipped her and her brother off to this horrid empty place before she could learn anymore about them, though. He was worried that King Noffin's assassins and bounty men could find them if they stayed too close to home. She couldn't wait to get back to the safety and comfort of her uncle, Lord Amicus's stronghold. Why Trovin had to go buy himself some famed Perdun stallions, and why she'd come along, she had no idea. What she'd been thinking, she had to admit, was that getting out of the old musty stronghold was better than sitting around with a bunch of old women knitting and gossiping. She'd hoped for an adventure, but not one where Sammani and Sir Jory were kidnapped and her and her stupid brother were cut up and left for dead.
At least they were alive. She vowed to herself to give Chureal and the scary dragon she commanded a king's ransom for saving her and her brother. At the very least, she'd give the sweet little girl a better wardrobe than oversized chainmail armor, though she did look quite angelic wearing it when the sun was upon her.
She would let the dragon feast on her father's royal herd until he was bloated.
She hoped and prayed to the gods of Ormandin that Sir Jory and Sam were all right, and she had a strange, but comforting feeling that the wickedly handsome young Lord Braxton would somehow save them and see them all safely back to Grey Rock, her uncle's stronghold.
The shining reflection of something falling from the night sky into Braxton's lap caught her attention and she sat up suddenly. Just out of the fire's orange glow, something large and white swept by, and she was suddenly very afraid. Her brother, who was supposed to be on watch, was staring at the dragon's hypnotic scales as if he were entranced.
"Trovin." She hissed, and he snapped his head toward her, for he heard the fear in her voice.
"What is it?" he asked, looking around nervously.
Just then, the white falcon circled closely by them, startling them both before fleeing the light completely.
"What was it?" she asked nervously.
"Just a bird," he reassured her. "An owl or something." His eyes betrayed his words, though, and she followed them out into the blackness where a white line of wings bobbing slightly with effort drew closer out of the darkness speeding toward them. Soon, both could see that it was a snow-white bird and that it was flying straight for the fire. No, Trava realized, it was flying straight for Lord Braxton.
Trava gasped and Trovin tried to shout a warning when the bird flew full speed right into Braxton's chest.
Trava cried out in fright for a moment, but when Braxton opened his eyes, she was filled with sudden relief. When he turned to her and smiled, she felt as safe as she'd felt since she'd been in her father's castle back in Ormandin.
When he held up a shiny ring to look at it in the firelight, her heart melted, for it was the ring her mother had given her on her name day. One of Prince Venom's men had taken it from her after she'd been run through back in the village.
Chapter Five
Near the encampment of Prince Venom’s men, Cryelos poked his head up cautiously through the high grass. Being elven, he was able to see well at night, but not nearly as well as Braxton's falcon. He could make out the two men leaning against the wheeled cage, though. It was nearing dawn, and all he was waiting for was the falcon's cry. Once he heard it, he would let loose his arrows.
He'd finally gotten his wish, though. The ride on Cobalt's back had been invigorating and wild, but he found that riding on a dragon at night was more terrifying than anything else.
Cobalt had grown strong enough to carry him, after all, he didn't weigh that much more than Chureal did.
Braxton had charged him with eliminating the two guards watching the wheeled cage. After that was done, he was supposed to help the knight and the handmaiden out of the thing and as far away from the camp as possible. It sounded easy enough, but Braxton wanted him to try and steal horses, enough to carry them all if possible.
Cryelos had tried to tell Braxton that there were no horses on the Isle of Jolin, and that he'd never ridden one, but Braxton was too busy to hear it. The elf desperately hoped that Sir Jorvan, the Knight of Ormandin, had enough experience and was still healthy enough to handle that part of the plan. As unnerved as he was, after his terrifying night flight, he figured he would just as soon walk as ride anything ever again. The dragon had let him down a good way from the camp, and because of his trembling legs, it took him twice as long as it should have to creep into position. Nevertheless, he'd made it. As he waited for the signal to sound, his mind went back to the Wilderkind Forest, where the prince of dwarves had shattered the Sapphire of Souls before the demon crushed him. The gem's dust had sprouted a great forest of mighty trees full of all the roots, nuts, mushrooms, and berries that the elves of old spoke of, and that Cryelos loved. It was a forest within a forest, for the Wilderkind around it was still dark and twisted, full of blood thorns and tangle vines, and all sorts of creatures that could kill you in your sleep or eat you whole. But it wasn't the clean mighty forest within, or the dark twisted one that surrounded it that was on his mind. It was the strange green man who had burst from the altar where the dwarf shattered the sapphire. The wild creature had howled at the sky, and thunder and lightning replied. Warm fat droplets of rain began to fall on he, Big H, and Chureal, while the man made of sticks a
nd leaves ran crazily off into the forest.
The call of the falcon pierced the morning and snapped him back to attention. His second arrow loosed before the first one even struck its target, and he didn't have to wait to know that they flew true.
The first man looked down at the arrow that was suddenly sprouting from his chest, and then looked up just as the second one embedded into his fellow's throat. Neither of them made a sound as they fell.
The falcon's cry woke most of the camp, but Cobalt's roar coming from the darkness, followed by the bright yellow, liquid lightning breath he sprayed across the men as they scrambled for their things caught their full attention. The grass near the spew browned until it caught fire, and before they could react in any sensible manner, the young wyrm lit them up again, this time from another angle.
The pre-dawn darkness was filled with strange yellow flashes and smoldering orange flames. Burning men cried out for help, or maybe mercy, Cryelos couldn't understand their words. Horses bolted this way and that while he was unlatching the door to the cage.
The man whose face greeted him there look terrified, and immediately pushed himself away from the door, keeping the woman behind him.
"I've come to help you escape," said Cryelos quickly. He knew it was his strange yellow eyes, pointed ears, and the chaos around them scaring the man.
"I'd rather die by the dark prince's blade than be eaten by you or your beast," the knight said as bravely as he could manage.
"Sir Jory, Trovin, your prince, sent me and my friends to save you from these men," Cryelos said, trying to convey confidence. The knight and the handmaid, he noticed, looked amazingly alike, and a lot like Trovin and Trava. "We need to get six horses and get out of here."
The knight looked at the chaos of the encampment and let out a sigh. "Come, Sam, I know we saw the princess die yesterday, yet the prince may still be alive," he said, climbing out of the cage and helping the terrified girl down.
Warrior of the Void Page 4