Silver Dragon

by Jason Halstead

  "For a time, yes," Tristam said.

  The baron smiled. "You will have your answers, I promise you."

  * * * *

  Alto stared at the gates of Highpeak as he walked down the road from the mountain pass. He paused at the stone bridge and studied the city in the morning light. Wind from the west rushed through the canyon and whipped his cloak around him until he pulled it tight.

  The gate portcullis was down, barring the gate. Alto glanced at the sky to confirm that it was mid-morning. He frowned, uncertain as to why the gate would be closed. He'd walked past a couple of mines and had even spoken to a group of miners who were milling about outside one of the mines. They had little to report and had seen no signs of goblins.

  Alto took as deep a breath as his bruised ribs would allow and started across the bridge. His hip was getting worse; from a dull ache, it had progressed to burning with almost every step. He'd long since clenched his teeth against it. He had to push on; there was no rest to be found in the frozen mountains.

  "Ho there, what business have you in Highpeak?" a guard called when he neared the gate.

  Alto reached up and threw back his hood and said, "I'm passing through."

  "I see that, but who are you and why should we let you in?"

  "Does Highpeak treat all travelers with suspicion these days? Is this the gratitude you show to someone who helped reclaim the city last spring?"

  "Lots of people helped last spring, including us. We're on lockdown. Seems some of the baron's guests came up missing last night," the guard said after he disappeared behind a crenellation on the wall for a moment. "Stand back while we raise the portcullis."

  Alto watched while the iron bars were cranked up. He waited until the lock was engaged and then stepped through them and met a pair of guards inside. As soon as he was clear, the portcullis was lowered back down. Alto glanced at it with narrow eyes. The hair rose on the back of his neck.

  "What did you say your name was?" one of the guards said.

  "What's it matter? They took the log!" the other guard complained.

  "We can write it down when they bring it back."

  "What's your business here, stranger?" the second guard asked. He turned to the first one and added, "Maybe he's not wanting anything written down."

  The first guard frowned. "We're supposed to write everyone who comes through down."

  "Supposed to, sure, but sometimes things happen."

  "Enough!" Alto snapped. "I don't give a damn if you write my name down or not. I'm passing through on my way back to Holgasford. I have pressing business that the safety of your city and this entire region depends on!"

  The guards stiffened and looked at each other. The eyes of the second guard narrowed. "Safety of the city, you say?"

  "Yes, I said that. Now get out of my way."

  The guard saw that Alto's hand had gone to rest on the hilt of his sword. He looked at Alto closer, his eyes going to the stains on Alto's cloak and the marks on his face. He backed away and gestured with his hand. "South gate is two streets over, then straight south."

  "I know," Alto snapped as he walked away from them. He struggled to hide his limp but it only made his hip burn worse.

  After an eternity of walking that made even his neck and shoulders ache from the way he clenched them, Alto arrived at the southern gate. The portcullis and doors were open, but he saw as he approached that every traveler passing through was questioned and, in the case of a merchant's wagon, searched.

  Alto paused to study the gate, wondering about the security. The guard had said the baron had guests go missing. It pulled at him, making him want to talk to Baron Mackay and learn more about it. He'd met the baron when he was given the position of being Lord of Highpeak. The man had seemed capable enough, but back then Alto had been awed to stand so close to royalty.

  He snorted. Back then had been less than a year ago. Had he changed so much that the thought of royalty no longer impressed him? He'd been taken into the confidence of the Jarl of Holgasford and been offered Lady Patrina, a princess, for his wife. Alto shook his head and spied the rebuilt stables. He couldn't walk to Holgasford, not the way his leg felt.

  "Fine morning to you!" the stablemaster said when he saw Alto approach. His eyes took Alto in and he frowned. "Looks like maybe it's not been so fine for you?"

  Alto glanced down at himself and shrugged. "Some troubles in the Northern Divide."

  The stablemaster grunted. "Well, son, what can I do for you? I don't have any work to offer if that's what you’re after."

  Alto smirked. "I need a horse."

  He looked Alto up and down again and clasped his hands together in front of him. "Well, it might be that I've got something to sell. She's a bit long in the years but she's been a good mare."

  Alto shrugged. Mare, stallion, or gelding—he didn't care. Anything this man had would pale in comparison to the steeds he'd known. "Show me."

  The stablemaster gestured for him to follow and snapped at a boy who was raking out the stalls as they passed. "She's in the end stall here," he said and then glanced back over his shoulder at Alto.

  Alto had stopped and was staring into a different stall. "I know this horse," Alto said.

  "What's that?" the man said as he came back. He looked at the horse Alto was staring at and frowned. "Man who rode him in paid good and fair. If you've got a problem with him, you'll have to take it up with him."

  Alto stepped past him and looked at the next stall. "I know this horse, too. And this one. I'd wager the others as well. When did these people arrive?"

  "Late yesterday. Is there trouble to be had?"

  Alto frowned. The baron had guests last night and one of them was missing. He cursed under his breath. "Seems there's always trouble where I go," he muttered. "If they should show up to leave, don't let them go."

  "Hey now, that doesn't sound so good. This city has seen enough trouble this year, I'll not add to it!"

  Alto reached into his cloak and pulled out a few coins. He pressed them into the man's hand but the stablemaster shook his head. "I don't want gold if it means dark tidings!"

  Alto sighed. "I'm trying to stop bad things from happening! These men are called the Blades of Leander. They're my friends and I expect they're looking for me. I'm looking for them too, so we need to find one another."

  The stablemaster bit into the coins and then smiled. "Well, why didn't you say so! Say, Blades of Leander, weren't they involved in retaking Highpeak?"

  Alto nodded. "Yes, we were."

  "You're one of them? I thought you just said they were only friends?"

  "Our paths ran together for a while," Alto offered. "I can count on you to make sure they don't leave without me?"

  "Can't say that I can stop them from leaving, but I'll let them know you was looking for them," he promised. "Say, what's your name again, son?"

  "I'm Alto."

  The stablemaster's eyes widened. "Heard of you," he said. "Thought you'd be taller."

  "Taller?" Alto shook his head. He stood more than six feet tall as it was. How much taller could a man get? His thoughts went to the barbarian, Garrick, who stood almost half a head taller than him.

  "You look younger than I expected, too, now that I'm seeing past the dirt and fuzz. How long you been in the mountains?"

  "I'm not sure. Weeks. A month? Maybe more." Alto shrugged it away. "Thank you."

  The stablemaster opened his mouth to say more but Alto turned and limped away from him. There was only one place left for him to go—the palace.

  * * * *

  "They should have brought more food," Garrick grumbled as he paced back and forth in the dining room.

  Kar looked up at the tall man and nodded. "For once, my savage friend, I agree with you!"

  Garrick's snort was lost as Tristam slammed his hand against the table and rose up. "This is enough! We've been waiting hours. It can't take that long to talk to a few people and get answers."

  "We should take care," Ka
rthor advised. "Friendly or not, if we keep pushing the baron and Master Victor, we might find ourselves guests of a different sort."

  "You saying we just write Patrina off?" Tristam snapped at him.

  "I'd never suggest that," Karthor said. "I'm advising tact and diplomacy. Roughing up his men and threatening him is probably not a good idea considering he's got a small army and we've only got ourselves."

  Garrick snorted at the priest's recommendation. "They're soft and slow."

  "Historically, Highpeak has some of the best-trained men in the Kingdom," Kar said. "We've caught them off guard but you can be sure that won't last."

  "Best-trained?" Mordrim laughed.

  The wizard nodded. "Their men patrol the mountains, taking turns to do so. There's no shortage of foes to sharpen their skills on."

  "Trained or not, I've had enough of sitting on my arse!" Tristam declared. "We'll get our answers one way or another."

  "To the dungeon!" Mordrim cried, drawing blank looks from the others. "Well, if you took a prisoner, wouldn't you put them in a dungeon?"

  "She's a lady," Kar said. "People of rank are seldom tossed in common cells."

  Mordrim snorted. "Any towers around here?"

  Tristam shook his head free of the bantering and walked around the table towards the door. Namitus was next to it and shook his head. "It's locked."

  "They locked us in?" Tristam echoed.

  The rogue nodded. "It's the only door—I looked. And most castles have hidden passages for servants. This has no such thing, or if they do, they're hidden better than I've ever seen."

  Tristam cursed and looked at the door again. "I mean to get through that door. If it means finding a ram, I'll do it."

  "Use the dwarf," Garrick suggested.

  "What are you for?" Mordrim growled at him.

  "He's covered in metal. A couple of us pick him up and swing him into the door," the barbarian explained.

  "You're daft!"

  Garrick grinned at the fuming dwarf.

  "I think I can unlock it," Namitus offered.

  Tristam shook his head again and turned back to the rogue. "Try it."

  Namitus turned back and knelt in front of the door. He reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a bundle of rolled-up cloth. When he unrolled the bundle, there were several metal tools tucked into pockets inside it. He selected two of them and fit them into the lock.

  After nearly ten minutes of fumbling with the lock, Tristam turned to Garrick. "Enough waiting. Let's kick it open!"

  "Half a minute, I've almost got it," Namitus said. He cried out a moment later when, holding both picks in one hand, he tried the latch and felt it release.

  "Well done," Tristam grumbled. He motioned for the others, only to find they'd already gathered around the door. Tristam reached for the door and pulled on it, only to find it only moved far enough to bang into something.

  "They must have barred the door!" Namitus cried out. "That's hardly fair!"

  "Garrick," Tristam called as he stepped out of the way.

  "Hold a minute, the hinges are on our side," Kar pointed out. "Remove those and we can pull the doors off. Unless whatever they've barred it with is wider than the doorway."

  "You talk too much," Garrick muttered. He stepped up and kicked the door, rocking it back but failing to breach it. He scowled and back up, and then took a running start at it before throwing his shoulder into the door. He bounced back and rubbed his shoulder.

  "Hit it like that a dozen more times and you might break through," Kar snipped.

  Garrick scowled and looked at Tristam. The two stared at each for a long moment and then turned as one to Mordrim. "The dwarf," Tristam agreed.

  "What?" Mordrim cried. Both men stepped up to him and grabbed his arms. "Hold on, damn you!"

  "Your lady is in trouble," Tristam reminded him while Garrick couldn't hide the grin on his face. "Do you want to be known for not doing everything you could to help her?"

  "There's a special place waiting for you in the underworld," Mordrim growled.

  "Probably, but I'm in no rush to find it. Will you help?"

  Mordrim slammed his visor down and crossed his arms across his chest so he could lock them together. Tristam and Garrick grabbed him by the upper arm and leg and hoisted him up. Tristam grunted with the effort but Garrick kept grinning.

  It only took a single awkward running charge to shatter the wooden spear used to bar the doors shut. Mordrim tumbled to the ground amid the splintered wood while Garrick and Tristam staggered into the hallway. Guards stood ready with weapons drawn but they hesitated at the sight of the sputtering dwarf trying to pick himself up.

  Garrick knocked the sword away from the guard on his side and punched him in the face, driving him back a few steps until he tripped on the rug in the hall and fell on his back. Tristam drew his sword in time to deflect the sword of the guard on his side.

  "Don't kill them!" Karthor cried out as he and the others filed out of the room behind them.

  "He's talking to you, not me," Tristam told the guard he faced off against. The guard snorted and hacked at him again, forcing the warrior to stay on the defensive. Tristam backed up a step as the guard pressed forward.

  The guard gasped and staggered, and then fell to his knees as he arched his back and thrust his chest out. Tristam yanked his sword back to keep from running him through. Mordrim stood behind him, holding his hammer in both hands. He relinquished his two-handed grip and used his steel-covered fist to thump the guard on the head hard enough to make him crumple to the floor.

  Tristam spun around and saw that the guards were both out and there was no one else in sight at the moment. He turned on Karthor. "Don't kill them? Maybe you didn't notice but we was just locked in a room and kept under armed guard. They attacked us when we came out. That's a declaration of war."

  "We broke the door down," Karthor argued. "I agree we must do what we can to protect ourselves, but these men may be unwitting pawns in a greater game."

  "Then that's their bad luck," Tristam growled. He turned to the others. "If somebody needs killing, then you do what you must. I'm not risking any of our lives to spare the feelings of someone else."

  He saw nods all around. Karthor frowned but accepted Tristam's leadership. "Now where?" Namitus asked.

  "Now we find Baron Mackay and get to the bottom of this!"

  "You're going to accuse and attack the baron?" Karthor asked.

  "It's looking more and more like it," Tristam said.

  "This could have far-reaching effects," Kar warned. "We're working for Lady Patrina, a Kelgryn noble. This could start a war between nations that neither is prepared for."

  "Yeah, well, at least it'll be good for business," Tristam muttered. "Now quit your yapping and drag those two back in there. Let's hurry, before someone sees us. We've got a princess to go rescue."

  * * * *

  Alto paused outside the palace doors and sniffed. Something smelled rancid. He glanced around but saw nothing save for ice on the steps and walkway in front of the palace. Four guards stood outside the door, two to each side.

  "Move along," one of them said to him.

  "I need to see Baron Mackay," Alto said and stepped up in front of them. The faint smell grew strong enough to remind him of vomit.

  "The baron's not seeing anyone today; he's working on official business."

  "This is official," Alto said. He pulled his hood back off and stared at them, hoping one of them might recognize him.

  Instead, they laughed. "Try tomorrow and clean yourself up before coming back," the spokesman for the guards said.

  Alto sneered at them as a wave of heat washed through him. He stopped himself before reaching for his sword. "I've had a long day after a long night. In fact, it's been so damn long since I got a decent night's sleep or had something cooked properly that I'm not in the mood to put up with this nonsense."

  "You'll put up with whatever I feel like," the guard interrupted him. He st
epped forward and reached for his sword. "Now walk away or if there's anything left of you, it'll be tossed in the gallows!"

  Alto watched the guard draw his sword and he shook his head. The guard was insolent and stupid. He deserved to be taught a lesson. "Put that away or I'm—"

  "You're what?" the guard snarled at him. He stepped closer to Alto and raised his sword. "The baron's not seeing people today. You're dumb enough he's not seeing you ever!"

  The rage flushed through him and burned away the aches in his ribs and muscles. He turned enough to make the guard laugh and think he'd won, and then drew his blade in a flash and left the guard with a spurting stump of an arm.

  The stricken guard stared at his arm and held it up, shock overriding his senses. The others cried out and rushed forward, although it took two of them longer than the first. Alto caught the man's sword on his shield and buried his sword in his belly. The guard’s chain link parted like paper for the sword in his hand.

  Alto pushed the impaled man back so that he slid off his blade and stumbled back into one of the remaining guards. It gave Alto the time he needed to use his shield to block an attack and then he hewed into the man's leg, toppling him to the ground.

  The final guard pulled himself free and was about to rush when he saw how Alto had easily dispatched the other three. He hesitated and then threw down his sword. Alto glared at him, resisting the urge to cut him down as a lesson, and finally stepped up and wiped the blood off his sword on the man's cloak.

  "I told you this was important," Alto hissed at him. "If you've got a priest in this town, they might live. If they don't, it's not my fault you were too stupid to let me pass."

  Alto walked past the stunned guard and into the palace. He shut the doors behind him and then found the wooden plank to draw across the doors to keep anyone from following him in. He had to find out what happened to his friends and any distractions would only cause more people to be hurt.

  With fire coursing through his veins, Alto strode through the palace, looking for someone to guide him towards the baron.