by Nathan Roden
“I must say,” Lamont said. “That was amazing.”
“Trust me,” Helena said. “That is not where you want to be when arrows are whizzing by your head.”
Simon turned his head and burned off a bolt of harmless flame.
“Or when a giant wizard is causing the sky to explode around you,” he said.
Lord Lamont looked at Magdalena.
“Your logic has proven sound, My Lady. We have crossed the border with a company of soldiers without alerting the Border Guard. We could not have accomplished that without a dragon.”
Magdalena watched Simon, who dozed while sitting against the tree.
“I hope that we have not worn him out.”
Simon opened one eye.
“I’m not dead—but I am exhausted. And I will have to eat soon.”
A member of Lamont’s Guard joined them.
“Three of our men and the Blankenship brothers have embarked on a hunt.”
Within two hours, the men were building a spit to roast four large deer and several rabbits.
Boone spoke softly to Simon. He pointed to the south.
“We felled the biggest bull elk I’ve ever seen. That way. It took two arrows apiece to take him down. It would take eight men to move it.”
“Thank you,” Simon said. “I’ll be right back.”
“If you’re able,” Boone said uncomfortably. “I know you won’t like it—but we could really use those arrows.”
“I’ll get them.”
When they had all finished eating, the men put out the fire and covered signs of their presence.
“We rest until midday,” Lamont said to the assembly. “And then we begin the journey toward Vallen.”
“I must make my leave now, Lord Lamont,” Ben said.
“You’re leaving us?” Helena asked. “But—”
“There may be others looking for me,” Ben said, sadly. “The people of my village blame me for the deaths of those boys. And perhaps they should.”
“What you did was brave, Benjamin,” Lamont said. “Not foolish. There has never been an act of courage that was not despised by some. The loss of those lives will not be in vain.”
“There is still the chance that my being with you would hurt the cause,” Ben said. “And I cannot have that. And I will not rest until I find my daughter. When she is safe, then I will find you.”
“I’m coming with you,” Boone said.
“And I, as well,” Helena said.
Boone shook his head.
“No, Helena. You will be much safer with this company of soldiers.”
“I did not come to this land to be safe!”
“And I did not come here to watch you die!” Boone said.
He calmed himself.
“Ben and I lived our entire lives in the woods. The journey will be long and treacherous. I don’t want to have to worry about you. I want to return to you, with my brother and my niece.”
Helena took Boone’s face in her hands. She kissed him gently on the lips.
“Be careful, my love.”
Boone looked at Simon and blushed.
“I will.”
Boone smiled.
“Watch out for our big friend.”
Lamont motioned to one of his men. The man handed over his crossbow and quiver.
“Take this,” he said to Ben.
“I am much more comfortable with my longbow, My Lord,” Ben said.
“Ah, I pray that you encounter only comfortable circumstances,” Lamont said. “But should you need more stopping power, these are hard to beat.”
“Thank you, My Lord.”
“Godspeed, my friends,” Lamont said.
Boone and Ben were gone.
Thirty-Three
The scouts returned to the secluded area of woods outside the village of Vallen. Lamont, Simon, and the others waited there.
“The layout of the village is simple,” one of the scouts said. “There are two main roads, with the market at their intersection. The homes are small and built closely together. The children of the village have the run of the streets. These people do not look like those who live in fear.”
“I saw only two men carrying weapons of any kind,” the other scout reported. “Short swords. These men did not wear uniforms.”
Nicolas Lamont nodded.
“We will join the main road outside of the village. Only the long bowmen are to carry their weapons—and those across their backs.”
The other soldiers moaned.
“We are to walk into a strange village unarmed?”
“Carry your daggers,” Lamont said. “But keep them concealed. The rest of our weapons we will hide here.”
“Why bother to hide them?” one soldier asked. “They will be watched over by a dragon. I trust that my bow will be quite safe.”
Lamont looked at Simon.
“If all goes as planned, the people of Vallen will meet the dragon well before sunset.”
The company of soldiers walked into the village of Vallen. Children squealed and pointed. They ran to alert the adults. The two armed guards called for Lamont and his men to stop. These men were quickly joined by eight more, bearing crude spears.
“What business do you have in our village?” the armed men asked.
“We wish to speak to those in charge,” Lamont said.
“In what regard?” one of the men asked.
“In matters of mutual benefit,” Lamont said.
“Go and get Vincent,” one of the guards said to the man at his side.
“This ‘Vincent’ is your steward?” Lamont asked.
“Steward. Sheriff. General,” the guard growled. “Call him what you will.”
“Vincent will hear what you have to say,” another guard said. “Though I doubt he will care for your uniforms. You’re from the north.”
“Yes, we are from the north,” Lamont said. “But we do not represent those currently in power of the Kingdom of Morgenwraithe.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” the guard asked.
“I will explain all when Vincent arrives.”
“Then let the explanation begin!” a voice boomed behind Lamont and his company.
Lamont turned. He had to raise his head to look at Vincent’s face. The man was thin and very tall. He wore a brightly colored cloak. His hair was long and curly. He wore makeup on his face, making his eyes appear dark and mysterious. His mouth opened in a show of gleaming white teeth.
Four beautiful young women trailed behind Vincent. Their eyes were cast upon the ground.
“Men of the North—you walk boldly into my village, carrying weapons,” Vincent said.
His smile faded.
“We have no reason to trust men of the north.”
Vincent looked past Lamont. At Helena.
“This includes women of the north—though they may be fine to look upon.”
Vincent focused his attention back on Lamont.
“What business do you have in Vallen?”
“I am Nicolas Lamont; Viceroy and Steward of the Seaport of Islemar. This young lady is—”
The armed guards drew their short swords at the same time.
“The Steward of Islemar!” one guard said. “We should take this man’s head right this moment, Vincent! This is the man who ignores our treaty!”
Lamont’s men moved their hands toward their hidden daggers. But then they noticed that more men had assembled behind them in a wide arc. Some carried axes. Others carried spears.
“It is not I who cheats you!” Lamont said.
“Whether the decision is yours, or the King to which you bend your knee—the effect on my people is the same.”
Vincent’s eyes blazed with a look of vengeance.
“Death. Needless death.”
“The King of Morgenwraithe has not reached the age to rule in the north,” Lamont said.
“The man to blame is as much our enemy as he is yours. Lord Sterling Morgenwraithe—the Kin
g’s Regent.”
Vincent gave a look of disgust.
“All these terms are nonsense. Regent. Steward. Viceroy. What is a Viceroy?”
“I am the Kingdom’s Viceroy by King’s Decree. If the Morgenwraithe family should find itself without an heir, then the lineage of Kings defaults to my family’s bloodline.”
“Ha, ha, ha, ha!” Vincent threw back his head and laughed.
He stepped behind the four girls and spread his arms around them.
“It is the same as if I gave you these delectable creatures as a gift—but then told you never to touch them!”
The men of the village joined in Vincent’s laugh.
Vincent held up his hand and there was silence.
“It is no small wonder that your ‘kingdom’ suffers. Your people care more for pompous titles and lording over one another than—”
“Not all of us,” Lamont said. “We are not the first men from the kingdom to seek support from the south.”
Lamont motioned toward Helena.
“The men of this young lady’s village traveled here—less than a year ago. Three brothers; led by Bodrick Fuller—”
“Ah, yes,” Vincent said.
“You met with these men?” Lamont asked.
“Bodrick Fuller. Yes,” Vincent said. “He gifted me this magnificent coat!”
Vincent held out his arms and walked in a circle.
“You spoke with them about forming an alliance?” Lamont asked.
“Yes,” Vincent said. “I told them that should they find a thousand good men to join them among the other villages, to come back here and we would discuss the matter further. I never heard from them again. I did hear that their home village was overrun. And that the heads of the Fullers grace the walls of the King’s Castle.”
“We are determined to prove that those men did not die in vain,” Lamont said.
“There are many stupid ways to die, Lamont,” Vincent said. “Dying in the attempt to make other deaths meaningful is one of them.”
Lamont clenched his fists. His eyes narrowed.
“They died trying to make the north AND the south better places to live—and to raise our families.”
“Dead… is still dead,” Vincent said.
“And strength is strength. The advantage lies with Lord Sterling—and the armies he lords over.”
“We also have strength,” Lamont said.
“You have others pledged to your cause? How many?”
“We have only just begun our quest for allies,” Lamont said. “But we already have a strength that cannot be denied.”
“And what is that?” Vincent asked.
“The rightful king will fight at our side.”
“The rightful king….” Vincent pondered. “Surely, you are not talking about the dragon-boy?”
“The very same,” Lamont said. “And I assure you—he is no longer ‘a boy’.”
Vincent looked up the road. His eyes scanned the edge of the forest.
“Is he with you?”
“He is.”
“Is it true…that he speaks?”
“Yes.”
“Ho, ho, ho, ho!” Vincent slapped his hand against his leg.
Vincent was so delighted that he could not keep still. He leaned in toward Lamont.
“Tell me. It is said that the boy becomes human for one day—at the full moon.”
“This is true,” Lamont said.
“And you truly seek to take the throne for this…this…dragon!”
“He will not remain a dragon forever,” Lamont said. “The curse will be lifted when the rightful king takes over rule the rule of the kingdom.”
“Oh?” Vincent said. “Is that a part of the black magic spell?”
“No. It is my promise,” Magdalena said.
“And who might you be, Mysterious Lady?” Vincent asked.
“I am Magdalena. I placed the curse upon Simon Morgenwraithe.”
The men of the village whispered among themselves. They also took a few steps back.
“Is that so?” Vincent asked. He looked at Lamont.
“You seek allies for a rebellion that makes little sense. The sorceress and the cursed—they fight for the same side?”
“People do change,” Lamont said. “And it is not necessary to be of one mind to fight a common enemy.”
“I make no promises, Lamont,” Vincent said. “But I will not pass up an opportunity to have a conversation with a dragon.”
“Then, follow me.”
Thirty-Four
Lucien walked onto the grounds of the army’s training grounds. He was alone. Five young soldiers were talking and laughing, taking a break from the sword-play exercises. They did not see Lucien walk up behind them.
Lucien overheard the soldiers making fun of one of the other boys. That particular boy had been singled out by Lord Sterling in an assembly—for being extremely lucky.
“Which of these is the lucky soldier?” Lucien asked.
The boys turned around. They dropped their swords and knelt.
“We did not hear you, your Grace,” one of them said. “Forgive us if you found our words offensive. We meant no harm.”
“No harm done,” Lucien said. “Well. The lucky one. Where is he?”
They pointed.
“His name is Oliver, your Grace.”
Lucien walked onto the training grounds. The instructors stopped their proceedings and everyone knelt.
“Rise—all of you. I am not here to disrupt your training.”
Lucien pointed.
“You. Your name is Oliver?”
Oliver swallowed hard.
“Y-yes, your Grace.”
Lucien turned to go.
“Come with me. And bring your sword.”
Oliver dusted himself off. He looked wide-eyed at his instructor. The instructor shrugged.
“He’s the King. I wouldn’t tarry if I were you.”
Oliver hurried to follow Lucien.
“What do you think that’s about?” one of the boys asked another.
“I don’t know. But I don’t think we’ll be able to tease Oliver anymore.”
Oliver followed Lucien inside the castle. Lucien walked toward his chambers. He pointed at the door of the room next to his.
“Get your things and move them into the squire’s quarters. My former squire has been reassigned.”
Lucien noted the look of concern on Oliver’s face.
“Don’t worry. He was promoted to a position of higher authority in the King’s Guard. He’s not going to be looking to cut your throat in your sleep.”
Oliver found it difficult to look Lucien in the eye.
“I…I just want to make sure that you are not mistaking me for someone else, your Grace. I am not a skilled warrior.”
“Look at me, Oliver.”
Oliver looked up. He had never seen anything but a cold detachment in the King’s eyes before that day. But now, he thought he saw something else. Weariness.
And fear.
“Skills can be learned. Luck…cannot. And that is what I need the most, just now.”
Lucien narrowed his eyes.
“Along with loyalty. And a quiet tongue.”
“Yes, your Grace.”
“Will you need assistance—?”
A soldier burst into the corridor, rounding a corner at full speed and crashing into Oliver. Oliver kept them both from falling.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lucien asked.
“There has been a…a murder, in the village!” the man said breathlessly.
“A murder? Who?” Lucien asked.
“The healer! He was shot with his own crossbow!”
Sterling and Raynard stomped into the corridor. Raynard grabbed the man by the neck and slammed him into the wall.
“You do not storm into this castle shouting your imbecilic interpretation of events!” Sterling yelled in the man’s face.
“Do you have any idea how quickly pa
nic can spread? No! Of course, you do not. Idiot!”
Sterling looked at Raynard.
“I want this man locked up. And if he cannot be silent—”
Sterling glared at the man.
“Cut out his tongue.”
Raynard delegated the task to his subordinate. He followed Sterling into the courtyard.
“Where is Dathien?” Sterling asked.
“I have not seen him yet today.”
“Two mysterious deaths in the village—within two days.”
“Do you think the wizard is responsible?”
“Of course, he is responsible! He wants the dragon dead more than I do! And he doesn’t care how many bodies he leaves to rot!”
“Maybe you should call the monster off, Sterling. Pay him half—send him back to where he came from!”
“He would not consent to that,” Sterling said. “You saw him on that mountain—he is like a mad dog that has lost its bone. He will not rest until the dragon is dead.”
“I am beginning to believe that the hunter is more of a threat than the hunted.”
Sterling scowled.
“If you have such thoughts, you should keep them inside of your head. Come with me.”
“Where are we going?” Raynard asked.
“To talk to the widow.”
Raynard engaged four more soldiers to go with them into the village. A crowd of people, mostly women, gathered outside of the healer’s home and apothecary. They wept behind their black veils.
Raynard ushered them away from the door to the home. Sterling knocked on the door.
“This is Lord Sterling, My Lady. Please open the door.”
There was no response.
Sterling knocked louder.
“The poor woman is in no condition for visitors, My Lord.”
Sterling turned around. A woman of at least ninety years had spoken.
“We are here on the King’s business,” Sterling replied. “An unexplained death is of importance to us all.”
Sterling looked at Raynard and nodded. Raynard lowered his shoulder and broke the door open.