Tales of King's Blades 02 - Lord of The Fire Lands

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Tales of King's Blades 02 - Lord of The Fire Lands Page 23

by Dave Duncan


  miscellaneous courtiers trailing at his

  heels. Aeled usually made things worse

  by inviting friends to stay also. When he was there, the

  walls bulged, and massed snoring scared away

  all the wildlife in the south half of the island--so

  he claimed, and everyone laughed when a king made

  a joke. He refused to have the place rebuilt

  or repaired, not even to close up the chinks in the

  notoriously unprivate walls. If he

  made it more comfortable, he said, then more people would find

  excuses to come.

  The herd of courtiers and officials was busily

  settling in, but from the racket they were

  making--demanding attention and ordering servants around

  --Radgar knew at once that Dad was not there.

  Again, he had to ask several people, but eventually he

  learned that His Majesty had gone in search of the

  Queen, who was thought to be at the private cabin.

  He sprinted out the door in a spray of mud and

  headed up the hill. The trail was not long, but it

  climbed steeply through a forest of oaks, maples,

  and sycamores, a canopy of leaves shining

  gold, bronze, and copper in the rain. He

  arrived panting.

  The little cabin by the waterfall was the center of his

  world, the place he kept his heart. It had never

  been formally given to him, but his possessions had

  taken over the main room completely and he

  slept in the big bed in the loft. When Dad was

  away Mom always stayed in the main house, and last

  winter Dad had done so, too. Radgar assumed

  that they were less concerned about privacy now that they

  had grown too old to do the forlegnes thing--

  Mom had turned thirty now and Dad was even

  older. And whatever they did or said, he would hear

  them here just as well as neighbors in the main house

  would.

  He exploded in through the door, bringing a blast

  of fine rain with him. Dad was sitting on the couch,

  leaning back with his legs outstretched, all

  spattered with mud and looking as weary as a man

  who had just spent three hours in the saddle, which he

  had. Mom was standing by the fireplace, wringing her

  hands.

  Radgar yelled, "Dad!" and launched himself

  at his father, who yelled in alarm, but caught him

  expertly and rolled him into a hug. "Dad,

  Dad, you're not going to go and fight the

  firedrake, are you?"

  Queen Charlotte took three strides to reach

  the open door and slammed it with an impact like

  thunder. "Radgar! Just look at this!"

  Her tone caused her menfolk to break out of their

  clinch and sit up in alarm. "What, Mom?"

  "This pigsty!"

  Bewildered, he peered around. It was true that the

  hearth was full of cold cinders and everything else

  had a visible coating of gray dust. The

  bedclothes on the couch had perhaps been there too

  long, but he had changed the sheets upstairs

  only a few months ago. Dad had always

  forbidden anyone else to come to the cabin, even the

  house thralls. She didn't expect

  an atheling to do housework, did she?

  If she didn't mean that, then perhaps she meant

  untidiness? Admittedly there was rather a lot of

  stuff about, more than the table and stools could hold.

  More than the floor could, either. A lot of it

  actually belonged to Aylwin and other friends and he should

  tell them to take it away, but everything there that

  belonged to him was important: his fishing spears,

  various rods, tackle, waders, creel, and

  nets; his horse gear, blankets and saddles,

  riding boots; two archery targets, three--no

  four--bows, a lot of arrows and the makings of many

  more, because he had taken up fletching last winter--

  staves, goose feathers, glue, straighteners.

  ... There were also his practice spears, swords,

  shields, helmets--just the toy stuff that boys were

  allowed to play with before they became cnihtas, but

  quite a good collection. ... Other boy things:

  balls, wooden puzzles, skittles, climbing

  boots, his bird nets and throwing sticks,

  animal traps, two sets of antlers, a

  couple of hunting knives, a very smelly

  bearskin that had not been properly tanned. ...

  That could go, but he must keep his collections of

  shells and birds' eggs, and the model longship that

  he had never finished. ... Too many books. A

  thegn didn't need all those books. A thegn

  didn't need a box of paints and a lot of

  brushes, either, but it was Mom who'd encouraged him

  in that, and Dad thought that some of the thirty or so

  sketches piled up over there in the corner were quite

  good; she was more doubtful. Yes, those could be thrown

  out, but not the skis, skates, paddles, or oars!

  He wasn't very good on the lute yet, but he

  really was going to practice more this winter and he could

  certainly throw out a lot of those clothes and shoes

  he had grown out of. Most of that rope was good enough

  to be useful someday. Brindle's basket could go

  because he always climbed into bed with Radgar anyway

  and just used it to store chewed bones.

  "Well?" demanded the Queen. "What have you

  to say?"

  Why on earth was she talking about this when

  Fyrndagum had erupted and there was a

  firedrake loose on Wambseoc? "I need

  a bigger room," he said. "Dad, you're not

  going--"

  But the look in his father's eyes was answer enough.

  "No, he is not!" the Queen said. "If

  Ufegeat has a problem, let

  Ufegeat handle it himself."

  "He can't," Dad said softly, rising. "He

  has no conjurer capable. A firedrake is the

  king's problem, always. I must deal with it because I

  am Hlaford Fyrlandum."

  "And leave me a widow?" Mom screamed.

  "Radgar an orphan? You know the odds when

  heroes go against firedrakes. You imagine a

  boy of Catter's line can survive in this awful

  country without a father to defend him? You think that fat

  brother of yours can hold the throne when you die?

  Someone else will kill him and take it, and whoever

  it is won't leave any young Catterings around

  to be a threat."

  Radgar stood up also. He was shaking, but that was

  all right after such a long ride. Men could shake

  when they were very tired. It wasn't fair, though!

  Other boys had gotten their fathers back today, but his

  had to go away again, and into worse danger than ever.

  Dad looked at him wistfully, as if

  measuring him against future manhood. "We

  Baels don't make war on children."

  "Yes, you do!" she yelled.

  "Well, not our own children. Not usually. I

  survived."

  "You had an older brother!"

  Dad shrugged. "Yes I did, and maybe now

  you understand my loyalty to him."

  "You're exhausted," she said. "I haven't

  see
n you in months. That volcano's been erupting

  for weeks. Surely you don't have to rush away

  and--"

  "Yes, I do, Charlotte. Eruptions

  don't matter. Eruptions happen all the time.

  This is a firedrake we're talking about.

  It's a monster. It's evil. It will ravage

  all of Wambseoc. Every hour counts, every

  minute." He flashed Radgar a half smile

  and then held out his hands to his wife. "Listen,

  both of you. I haven't told you this before. Years

  ago Healfwer chanted the hlytm for me, and

  my weird is not fire! The firedrake can't

  kill me, understand?"

  But it might mutilate him horribly,

  Radgar thought. Firedrakes had killed his father,

  Fyrlaf, and his grandfather Cu`edblaese. Why

  wasn't Mom going to him?

  "I am Hlaford Fyrlandum," Dad

  repeated. "Earl Ufegeat has appealed to me for

  help against the firedrake and I cannot

  refuse. Radgar, I am going to Weargahlaew

  now. I'll leave in about an hour ... don't

  want to ride alone ... was going to take

  Leofric, but since you're here, will you come with me?

  I want to hear all about this wonderful

  progress. I'm so proud of you."

  Mom's mouth opened and shut without making a

  sound, but Radgar's heart burst into flames of

  rapture. "Then I won't have to tidy my

  room?"

  Dad guffawed. "Get out of here, you insolent

  young horror! Tell them to saddle up Spedig for

  me and one for you. ..."

  "He's as tired as you are!" Mother snapped.

  "He's only a child! He's--"

  "A thegn's son," Dad said. "Have a warm

  soak. Dress warmly. Bring a full day's

  food because I'm starving and I expect you are.

  Blankets, change of clothes. We'll

  probably have to spend the night there. Think what

  else we'll want. You've got time to eat, so

  eat well after you dress. Meet me here in an

  hour with the horses."

  Bliss! "Yes, sire!" Radgar said,

  saluting like a thegn. He went out and then poked his

  head back in to say, "I will tidy it, Mom!"

  He shut the door quickly, before she could answer.

  If he bent down to tighten his garter, his ear would

  be level with the knothole. ...

  "... need you?" Dad said. "I'm going

  crazy. It's been half a year. I have howled

  for you every night."

  "What?" There was something strange about Mom's

  voice. "No raping? No campfire orgies?

  No voluptuous Chivian virgins in--"

  "Not by me. You know me better than that. I

  may be going to die, dearest. You know that, too.

  The firedrake will be far more dangerous than the war

  ever is. Don't refuse me now, please! I

  beg. I plead. I offer anything."

  "Give up the firedrake."

  "Anything except that."

  "I heard that first on our wedding day. It's

  always been anything--except. Whenever you want

  to play stud horse, you promise me the whole

  pasture except the bit you're standing on."

  "If I refuse this I won't be the man you

  married. I'll be counted craven. New king in

  Baelmark, new Earl of Catterstow. Is that

  what you want? To be the wife of a

  disgraced thegn?"

  "Oh! You ...!" It sounded almost like Mom and

  yet not Mom. "Isn't that better than being the

  widow of a hero? But you know perfectly well I

  can never refuse you. Never once since you first

  ..." Her voice became muffled and then stopped.

  They must be going to do the forlegnes thing after

  all! At their age? How dis-gust-+!

  Radgar strode off down the path.

  So Radgar went to meet Healfwer a second

  time. Hatburna was actually closer

  to Weargahlaew than Waro`edburh was, Dad

  said, but it would be a steep climb and misery in this

  rain. He went in front on Spedig, leading the

  two packhorses; and Radgar brought up the rear

  on Steorleas, because Cwealm had already earned his

  oats that day. He'd forgotten how Steorleas

  tended to walk sideways, stupid mule! In

  fact the weather wasn't too bad under the trees,

  and once they reached the moorlands they could ride

  side by side and talk. Then time passed more quickly

  and a man didn't mind so much if the wind and rain

  froze his nose and ears off.

  Although he said he was in a hurry, Dad made

  a detour over to where a group of his ceorls were

  repairing sheepfolds, preparing for the winter. He

  sent them all home, saying that they didn't have to do

  that sort of work in this weather, and they were to tell the

  reeve he had said so. That was typical of Dad,

  the reason everyone in Baelmark loved him, from the

  loetu to the earls.

  On the ride in, he'd heard stories about the

  progress, and now he demanded a full report

  --"Like a ship lord gives me when he comes back

  from a foering." He asked questions, but finally he

  said something that made Radgar's face burn hot

  enough to steam in the rain. "If you can handle yourself as

  well as that in public at your age, Son, then

  you've got most of what it takes to be a great

  king."

  "Dad! That's crazy! Flattery--"

  "No, I mean it! Impressing your own people is

  far more important than banging your enemies.

  Obviously you made them laugh as you wanted; they

  didn't take offense, which they easily could have

  done. I am really proud of you. I'll bet

  all the earls were accusing you of building

  up support for a challenge to your old man?"

  "I swore that would never happen, sire, no

  matter how long you kept switching my butt."

  Dad laughed and said that was a very good response.

  Radgar had actually heard more comments about

  Catterstow getting a much better tanist in a

  few years, but he didn't repeat those. It was

  none of the other earls' business who Dad's

  tanist was.

  As they climbed higher the mist closed in,

  until there was nothing to see, but Dad had grown

  up at Hatburna and knew every coney track in

  the hills.

  Radgar wanted to hear about firedrakes.

  "You probably know as much as I do, Son.

  This one appeared last night and seems to be heading

  for the coast. Healfwer must know more about what makes

  a drake than anyone, but he usually won't

  talk. Fire elementals, yes. They're an

  essential ingredient. Plus spirits of earth--or

  perhaps air. And there may be more to it even than that.

  The one that Hatstan spawned sixty years ago,

  that killed your great-grandfather Cu`edblaese,

  looked like a great bird. And this one's like a

  bull, they say."

  "It looks like a bull?"

  "Or behaves like a bull. I hope I can

  head it off before it destroys the Nor`eddael

  town."

  "And drive it into the sea?" That was what the

  songs said.

 
"Or lure it into the sea." Dad laughed

  oddly. "I'm sure I'll run faster away from

  it than toward it. I'll see what Healfwer

  suggests."

  "Is that why you're going to see him? For

  advice?" The man was madder than a pondful of

  loons. Radgar still had nightmares about that

  hideous old cripple, and it was more than two

  years since he and Aylwin went foering

  into Weargahlaew.

  "Partly. Mainly because I want him to ward me

  against fire." Dad pulled a face. "Let's

  talk about something else! I think we'll reach

  Weargahlaew before sunset. You want Healfwer

  to chant the hlytm for you?"

  Was that why he had been invited along? Why was

  Dad suggesting it now?--because he thought Radgar was

  grown-up enough to handle the knowledge of his doom? Or because this

  might be his last chance to ask Healfwer

  on Radgar's behalf, his last visit

  to Weargahlaew?

  Did a man really want to know his weird? It

  might make him a coward in some circumstances.

  But it should make him braver in others. Radgar

  swallowed and said, "Yes, please."

  The trail narrowed to cross a steep face

  then, so the conversation was interrupted. He had the

  uneasy feeling that he had missed something and tried

  to puzzle it out while the rain dribbled down his

  neck and soaked through his hat; and all the time he was

  wishing he was riding Cwealm, who was as

  surefooted as a squirrel. Steorleas

  definitely wasn't. Eventually Radgar

  remembered Dad telling him that warding only worked

  once and you couldn't be warded against more than one

  element. So ...?

  So if Dad wanted Healfwer to ward him against

  fire now, then Dad had never been warded against

  whatever his bane was, because he'd said his weird

  wasn't fire. Why in the world not? Well, there was

  one element of the eight that a man would probably not

  want to be warded against, even if he knew it

  would be his bane.

  The drizzle had turned to whirling snowflakes

  by the time they reached Baelstede and the defile leading

  into Weargahlaew. By then Radgar would have been

  falling asleep in the saddle had he not been so

  chilled that his very bones were shivering. Of course he

  had to dismount when they reached the tunnel, so then

  Steorleas decided to be awkward and the

  packhorses joined in. Dad told him to lead

  Spedig on ahead as an example and managed

  to coax the rest of the train into following by luring them

  with oats. There wasn't anything Dad wasn't

 

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