Balear completed his first, signing his name and handing the waiver to Amroth. Iren finished next, but when he handed his over, Amroth frowned. “Really?” He turned the parchment around, revealing numerous smudges that made many of the letters hard to read. Iren glanced at his left hand. Black ink smeared the pinky side of it.
“I hate writing,” he declared, stalking away.
Rondel finished last. She took a painfully long time, her right hand shaking from the exertion. “Old age sure has caught up with me,” she said, smiling. “This gets harder and harder each time I do it.” At last she handed over her waiver, composed of basic, blocky lettering. Amroth nodded his approval and said, “Good. Wait here while I take these to the legal office.” He exited through a doorway on the far side of the courtyard.
From under her sleeve, Rondel whipped out the bottle of wine she’d been drinking from earlier. She went to take a swig from it, but then eyed it with disdain. “Empty,” she whined, seemingly to herself. “It’s always empty.” Turning to Iren and Balear, she grinned broadly and said, “I’ll be right back. Make sure Amroth waits for me if he returns before I do.”
“Doubtful,” Balear muttered as she disappeared through another doorway, the one that led to the kitchens. Iren nodded; for once he agreed with Balear.
Fifteen minutes later, Amroth emerged from the same doorway he’d entered and said they could depart. A few seconds later, Rondel appeared as well, carrying a bottle of some vile liquid. A quarter of it had already vanished, and Iren felt pretty confident he knew where it had gone.
Getting back on the horses, fortunately, was less of an adventure than the first time, though Rondel rode unsteadily and nearly fell off her mount twice before they’d even made it to the castle gate. Amroth roused the guard to the point where he could open the gate, and the fool was hung-over enough that he didn’t seem particularly concerned.
The first whispers of dawn crept over the horizon, and still the sleepy castle and surrounding city rested. Upon reaching the city bounds, Amroth directed them up a trail that led northwest. The crisp morning air chilled Iren, but he also felt the promise of warmth in it. It was still early spring, and while the snows had melted for the year, winter still clung stubbornly to the nights as best it could. Even so, it was gradually losing the fight. The grass had already begun to grow again, and in the distance, Iren could see the first buds on a clump of trees sheltered by a south-facing hillside.
As they rode, Amroth explained their task. They would head to Veliaf, a village in Lodia’s northeast, posing as a family of traders hoping to obtain some of the durable minerals harvested from the village’s mines.
“What’s Veliaf like?” Iren asked, barely able to contain his excitement, which grew with each hard click of the horses’ hooves on the cobble road. He couldn’t believe he was finally beyond the castle.
“A hardy village, with a population to match,” Amroth explained. “They have to be, both to work in the mines and to keep themselves safe, what with Akaku on their doorstep.”
“Akaku?” Iren questioned. “What’s that?”
Balear sneered, “You really don’t know anything, do you? What a brainless idiot! Akaku is the boreal forest that forms the northern border of Lodia. Isn’t that correct, Captain?”
Amroth gave the sergeant a sharp look. “Let me make two things quite plain, Balear. First, as we’re posing as civilians, you should under no circumstances call me ‘Captain.’ Furthermore, you will address Iren only by name, and not refer to him as ‘brainless’ or any other derogatory term. Understood?”
Balear looked stung, and Iren could guess why. The sergeant surely didn’t expect Amroth, leader of Lodia’s Castle Guard, to favor a Left like Iren Saitosan over a loyal soldier like himself.
“All the same,” Rondel piped up from the back of the line, shaking her now half-empty bottle, “I think I’ll just go on calling the brat whatever I feel like.”
Amroth turned in the saddle and glowered at Rondel. “As for you, I would prefer if you didn’t speak at all.”
Iren shifted his gaze from Amroth to Rondel and back again. Try though he might, he couldn’t understand their relationship. Rondel had helped Amroth seventeen years ago, but as the day wore on, the two showed no signs of stopping their griping at each other. Iren wondered what could have happened between them.
Maybe it simply meant that Rondel wore on Amroth’s nerves. She seemed to have that effect on people.
Deciding he was probably better off just ignoring the homeless bat, Iren refocused on the earlier conversation about their destination. “Amroth, why do the residents of Veliaf need to keep themselves safe from Akaku? Is the forest dangerous?”
“Few who enter Akaku return alive,” Amroth responded. “The lives of those in Veliaf are steeped in eternal caution of it. A thick stone wall surrounds the village, including the mine entrance, and sentries stand upon it at all times.” Vehemently, he concluded, “The rest of Lodia could learn a few things from them.”
Iren thought about his life inside Haldessa Castle. For the first time, he felt grateful for it. The people treated him poorly, to be sure, but until his accident with the chandelier, he’d at least always felt safe there. Veliaf, by contrast, lived under constant threat, and that dread shaped every moment of their lives.
“Why go to Veliaf at all, Capta . . . Amroth?” Balear shifted uncomfortably as he spoke. Iren laughed quietly at him; evidently the sergeant had a hard time not acting like a soldier. He sat bolt upright in his saddle, carrying himself regally as though participating in a grand parade. Iren intentionally rode closer to Balear to make the proper young man that much more ill at ease.
“Over many missions,” Amroth replied, ignoring Balear’s discomfiture, “I sought to end the Quodivar, but they do not fight like a military. Their commanders hide in the shadows, issuing orders in secret and sending their grunts to conduct the actual raids. To defeat the Quodivar, we must find their leadership and destroy it. On my last mission, we traveled this road, heading for Veliaf. The Quodivar ambushed us, and many fine Castle Guard members no longer walk among us because of it. In the end, though, we rallied and pushed them back, forcing them to flee to the northwest. I wanted to know where they went, so I and five other men tracked them. After three days, they entered Akaku a few miles west of Veliaf. I think their base lies somewhere in the forest.”
Rondel shouted from the back, “Blind speculation, and you know it! You’d better not have dragged us out here for nothing!”
Amroth scowled. “Last I checked, I didn’t drag you out here; you invited yourself.”
“And I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Rondel replied, her grin as wide as ever.
Throwing up his hands, Amroth pressed on, “Anyway, I dared not enter Akaku with only a handful of men. We started back to Haldessa when I saw him at the edge of the forest: the man who, I have no doubt, leads the Quodivar.”
Iren tensed at the mention of his parents’ killer. “What was he like?” he asked.
“I’ve never met a larger person,” Amroth replied. “He easily stood over seven feet and must have weighed at least three hundred pounds. He had the dark complexion and black hair of a Tacumsah islander, and on his back, he carried a single sword, more massive than any I have ever seen. As we lacked the manpower to attack him, I gave the order to withdraw. Then the worst happened; the enemy spotted us and attacked. My comrades all perished, and I had to flee in order to live.”
“You ran from battle?” Balear sounded even more hurt than when Amroth had rebuked him for calling Iren “brainless.”
“What choice did I have? Had I stayed, I would have died, and I needed to pass on the Quodivar’s whereabouts.”
“Then you really are leading us on a pointless mission,” Rondel called. “If they saw you escape, they’ll abandon their hideout now that you know their location.”
Amroth nodded. “That’s why I wanted to get underway so quickly. Even without Iren’s stunt yesterda
y, I would have opted for a rapid departure. It’s also why I made Veliaf our first stop. If the Quodivar did vacate, the residents might have some idea where they went.”
The day wore on as they talked and continued their journey. When afternoon gave way to evening, Amroth motioned for them to leave the road. Continuing in the dark would only get them noticed by Quodivar roaming the trail, and setting up camp near the road would be just as bad. The captain led them to the top of a small rise about half a mile west of the path, where they could easily see the lay of the land around them. There were no trees or thickets nearby, so they did without a fire and ate their dinner cold. Rondel whined bitterly as she downed her third bottle since leaving Haldessa. Iren, however, could find no reason to complain. Cold or not, he’d consumed few meals in the castle that matched this one. If nothing else, at least he hadn’t needed to steal it.
With their bedrolls prepared, Amroth volunteered to take the first watch. Iren tried to sleep, but he couldn’t even doze. He stared at the sky, losing himself among the stars.
After about an hour, he heard the captain whisper, “Wait for me, Nadav; it’s almost time.”
Iren heaved himself into a sitting position. “Amroth?”
The captain didn’t turn to face him. “I thought you were asleep.”
Crawling from his bedroll, Iren took a seat beside Amroth. “I can’t.”
Looking impressed, the captain replied, “All day in the saddle and you aren’t tired at all? Lefts really are something.”
Iren shook his head. “No, honestly, I do feel exhausted, but this is my first time outside the castle. I don’t want to miss anything.”
Amroth half-smiled. “We’ll need four days to reach Veliaf. You’ll have to rest at some point, no matter how excited you are.”
“I guess, but not tonight.”
The pair sat in silence, staring together across Lodia’s darkened landscape. Working up his courage, Iren asked, “So who’s Nadav?”
For a long time Amroth didn’t reply. His face became nostalgic, and Iren sensed that Amroth relived some old memory. When the captain spoke again, he did so quietly and humbly, “Before I came to Haldessa, I served in Caardit’s militia. Nadav was my commander.”
“Caardit has a militia? I thought the Castle Guard was Lodia’s military.”
Amroth snorted. “As do most people, including Azuluu. They think the Castle Guard can protect them from anything. And why shouldn’t they? On the surface, Lodia is a peaceful and prosperous nation. We trade extensively with both the Tengu of Eregos and the humans of Tacumsah. Our farms produce most of the food and raw materials for clothing used throughout northern Raa. You saw our opulence on display at the feast. That is the Azuluu family’s legacy.”
Iren didn’t consider all that food and drink a bad legacy at all, but he could see in Amroth’s face an indignant look, one of righteous contempt.
“It is a fool’s legacy,” the captain spat. “The fat oaf squanders our wealth on trinkets while our people suffer and die at the hands of the Quodivar.”
“The Quodivar,” Iren repeated, “who are they, really? What makes them such a threat?”
Amroth’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Hooligans and thugs, or at least that’s all they should be. You see, the Quodivar are merely a symptom of a greater problem. Azuluu doesn’t want to admit that Lodia is in crisis. He views military spending as wasteful. He is blind and stretches the Castle Guard too thin. Since we don’t have the strength to restrain them, the Quodivar have transformed from minor thugs into practically an army.”
“So Caardit formed its militia to protect itself from the Quodivar?”
Amroth nodded. “Caardit is the most remote town in Lodia. It’s in the northwest corner of the country and contributes little to Lodia’s economy, so the Azuluu family never saw a reason to devote much to it. Nadav rescued us. He taught us strength, that we could only have peace if we had power greater than our enemies. He taught me everything I know about fighting and life.” He sighed. “I wish he were still alive.”
“He died?”
“In battle, sacrificing himself trying to save me and his other subordinates. That day, I swore revenge on those who had slain my great commander. Everything I’ve done in my life since then has been for that purpose. Now, with your help, I may achieve that dream.”
Iren saw Amroth with new eyes. The captain had lost everything when the Quodivar killed Nadav. “Just like me,” he muttered. “We’re the same.”
Amroth must have heard him, because he smiled warmly. “You and I both owe a debt to those who’ve made us suffer. Together, we can pay them back.” The captain paused, gazing at the moon. “Well, you may not be able to sleep, but I’m bushed. Shall I leave you to handle the watch?”
Iren grinned and saluted. Anything for Amroth.
CHAPTER SIX
First Blood
Iren watched as Amroth collapsed onto his bedroll. Within a few minutes the captain started snoring.
Filled with new passion, Iren seated himself in the center of camp, trying to examine every detail of the surrounding countryside. With the moon nearly full and the skies cloudless, he could see a considerable distance. Amroth had chosen a good spot that allowed whoever took the watch to spot enemies approaching from any direction.
While he kept watch, Iren reached into his pants pocket and withdrew his small, black sea stone. He didn’t know what had made him bring it. As his only childhood memento, though, he couldn’t bear to leave it behind. Palming it gently, he derived a strange sense of calm as he caressed its smooth contours.
The hours passed uneventfully. Although the hilltop provided excellent visibility, it also left him exposed. In the windy night air, Iren’s hands quickly numbed. The stone only robbed them of warmth faster, so he placed it back in his pocket.
As he did, his hand brushed against the hilt of his sword. He still couldn’t quite get used to the fact that it belonged to him. He’d never used a sword in his life, and he’d never even seen one of this quality. He wondered if perhaps the weapon had a name. Back in the stables, Rondel had started to call it something. He felt certain of that.
There was also the issue of Rondel herself. Iren peered at the old hag, who was snoring louder than he thought possible. He found it hard to believe that she’d just so happened to have all those supplies ready to go, even if it was almost all alcohol. Nor did he consider it likely that she’d accidentally gotten lost after the feast and wound up sleeping in the stables. Whatever she might say to the contrary, she hadn’t come on this mission by mistake.
Iren made up his mind, his curiosity getting the better of him. Giving a quick pass over the countryside to confirm no one was around, he abandoned his post and hunched over Rondel, trying hard not to breathe or make any sound whatsoever. He sat there for what felt like hours, studying her and trying to figure her out. Eventually, when his legs started falling asleep, he backed away.
As he did, his numb limbs made him lose his balance. Reaching out to catch himself, he placed a hand on Rondel’s shoulder. A violent shock ripped through him. Rondel’s eyes snapped open, and to Iren’s amazement, blue sparks filled them. Iren collapsed on his back in surprise. Not a second later, Rondel crashed on top of him, throttling him with an expression of utmost hatred on her face. Despite her miniscule frame and tiny hands, her grip held firm against his best efforts to dislodge her.
“Rondel, it’s Iren!” he whispered hoarsely, as much from fear as from an inability to breathe.
For a moment Rondel appeared not to hear him, but gradually her hold relaxed, and the bizarre lightning leaping across her irises disappeared, if indeed it had ever existed. Iren already doubted himself. Surely it was just the panic of the moment.
Dusting herself off, Rondel snapped, “What on Raa do you think you’re doing?”
Iren started to reply, but the aggravating crone clamped her hand over his mouth. Without looking at him, she hissed, “Wake the others quietly. Enemies have u
s surrounded.”
Rondel’s abrupt shift in demeanor terrified him. Her smile had vanished, and her high-pitched voice that reveled in making light of everything and everybody had deepened into a deadly seriousness.
The old woman released him, and Iren turned his head in circles, surveying the landscape. He could see no one.
“I get it,” he finally deduced. “You’re angry that I startled you, so this is all an act. You want to get me in trouble by having me sound a false alarm and wake the others unnecessarily.”
The crone glared at his chest with such venom that he feared she might throttle him again. Something about that expression made Iren pretty sure she wasn’t joking. So, still half convinced Balear and possibly Amroth too would hound him mercilessly for it, he did as instructed. He woke the captain gently and then, just for the sake of revenge at getting called “brainless” earlier in the day, raised Balear by giving him a hard kick in the ribs.
The sergeant swore, but Iren covered the knight’s mouth. “Shut up. Enemies.”
Balear looked like he might vomit. Iren couldn’t tell if it was nerves about an impending attack or the fact that Iren had touched his face.
The four regrouped around Rondel. “I’d say twenty of them,” she whispered. “They’re clever. They ripped up patches of sod and covered themselves, then crawled to the base of the hill. They have us surrounded.”
Rondel’s altered demeanor still stunned Iren, and judging from Balear’s reaction, the sergeant felt the same way. If the change fazed Amroth, though, he didn’t show it. He responded firmly, “We’ll charge their line. By the time those on the other side of the hill reach us, we’ll have dealt with the first few.”
“No,” Rondel countered. “If we do that, it means abandoning our campsite. While we’re busy fighting on one side of the hill, our foes on the other side will simply loot our gear, steal our horses, and leave. We’d survive, but we’d have to go back to Haldessa to resupply.”
The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga Page 5