Rebellion: I, Dragon Book 2

by Nathan Roden

“Yes. I know who you are,” the Captain said. “Because it is my business to know things. It keeps me in the King’s good graces.”

  “You mean in Lord Sterling’s good graces, do you not?”

  Edmund smiled at the flash of anger that spread across the Captain’s face.

  “It is also my business to know things,” Edmund said.

  “Then I am quite sure that you know that the village of Vallen lies in ruins.”

  “Yes. They fell victim to fire in the middle of the night. Very sad.”

  “Lives were lost, yes?” the Captain asked.

  “Yes.”

  “The tragedies did not end there, Sir Edmund. One of my men was killed—south of the border. Along with two boys who lived in Vallen.”

  “That is tragic indeed—”

  “They were murdered!” the Captain roared. “Stabbed in the gut! And shot in the back!”

  “What are you implying?” Edmund asked.

  “Oh, I am not implying anything,” the Captain said with an evil grin.

  “I am not leaving here until I learn what secrets you hide.”

  “Do you expect me to stand aside while you invade the sanctity of our village?”

  “I expect you to stand aside for the sake of shared purpose! Would you rather meet the full strength of the King’s Army? Believe me; you do not want to find Lord Sterling and Captain Raynard on your doorstep.”

  Edmund folded his arms across his chest.

  “We have nothing to hide.”

  The Captain turned in his saddle and motioned to the man at the rear of their formation. He, in turn, motioned behind him.

  The company of soldiers marched over the hill.

  “We will see.”

  Edmund and his men stood aside as the company passed. Edmund was amazed. The Guard was mostly young boys. Tired and exhausted boys.

  Edmund whispered to one of his men.

  “Circle around them and assemble the men. Empty the weapons stores. Send the women, children and the elders to the sanctuary. We have prepared for this. Go quickly. And tell Lamont to get his people out of there, at once!”

  Edmund and his men withdrew to the village. The Captain ordered his men forward. They moved ahead at a snail’s pace, motivated by caution, exhaustion, and fear.

  “What is it you search for, Captain?” Edmund challenged. “A beaten-down and sickly foe? Because that is what you will find!”

  “I think we will begin by inspecting your quarters, Lord Braun.”

  “Captain’s squad. Follow me.”

  He turned and shouted to the rest of the company.

  “Ready your bows!”

  Bows and shields rose across the front of the formation.

  Before the Captain and his squad could dismount, a young man rounded the corner of Sir Edmund’s quarters at a full run.

  An arrow thrummed across the void, striking the man in the neck. With a horrible gurgling and splashing of blood, the man fell to the ground.

  “Bloody hell!” Sir Edmund screamed. “What is this act of savagery?”

  The Captain leaped from his horse and charged at his own men.

  “Who loosed that arrow? Show yourself! Have you children lost your minds?”

  A whimpering young soldier dropped his shield. The boys on either side of him pushed him forward.

  “I’m…I’m so sorry, My Lord! I am so tired…my hands were shaking…”

  The boy looked up just in time to see the Captain’s sword descending against his neck.

  “I cannot believe it,” Boone whispered to his brother.

  “It had to start sometime, little brother,” Ben said.

  “And war rarely waits until you are ready.”

  “We have to warn Simon,” Boone said.

  Ben pointed to the rear of the company of soldiers.

  “There is no time. They’re loading the cannon.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Ben notched an arrow.

  “Make sure that the cannon does not find a target.”

  Three soldiers worked to ready the cannon. One of them fell over the barrel. He had an arrow in his back.

  “Captain! We are under fire!”

  The Captain cursed.

  “Captain’s squad! Surround the cannon! And take your damned shields!”

  The Captain whipped around, still holding his dripping sword. He swore again when he saw that Sir Edmund and his men had taken the opportunity to flee for cover.

  “Infantry!” he cried. “Flank positions one and two! Ready your bows. You have seen what happens when you fail to follow orders!”

  He turned his attention back to the cannon crew. He pointed his sword at Sir Edmund’s quarters.

  “I want that building laid to waste. Immediately!”

  Boom!

  The cannon blast shook the countryside.

  Simon prepared to take to the air. He paused.

  He turned to face the frightened old couple. The woman cried and held the baby against her chest.

  “Get the baby to safety,” Simon said. “And when this is over, do not even think of making me come and find you.”

  He launched himself into the sky.

  Sixty-One

  Lord Sterling was his typical self: edgy, hung-over, and in a foul temper. The castle staff gave him a wide berth.

  He called for his tasters. He would treat himself with the only medicine that had ever worked for him, which was a steady dose of sweet wine.

  “Send in the King’s squire!” he said to the boys.

  “The squire is not here, My Lord.”

  Sterling had already forgotten. He swore and threw his cup at the wall.

  “Send in…send in someone capable of stringing together two coherent sentences!”

  “Yes, My Lord.” The boys hurried out of the room.

  “You wished to see me, My Lord?”

  Sterling looked up and scowled.

  It was Tilda.

  “I ask for a messenger, and—aren’t you the queen’s handmaid?”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “The queen is in Islemar!”

  “Yes, My Lord. The matter is…complicated.”

  “Yes, yes,” Sterling waved her off with a hand.

  “I am not to be disturbed—unless it is a matter of vital importance. Is that understood?”

  Tilda bowed her head.

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “That will be all.”

  Sterling was restless. He could not sit still in the quiet of his empty quarters. He got to his feet and pushed open the door. Sterling doubled back and picked up his wineskin. Servants and King’s Guard quickened their pace and moved out of his path.

  Sterling opened the door to the throne room. He walked across the floor, his boots clicking loudly and echoing off of the walls and the thirty-foot ceiling. He climbed the steps to the throne. He stood before it and cursed Lucien under his breath. He turned around and sat down.

  Sterling filled his cup and emptied it in one drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  He quoted nasty and horrible things to his make-believe audience, complete with arms and hand gestures.

  He cursed the king, and he cursed the queen. He cursed Nicolas Lamont, and he cursed the sorceress.

  Sterling paused.

  Magdalena, he thought.

  He leaned forward and stroked his chin.

  The sorceress. Where has she been? I have not seen or heard from her since…when?

  Sterling got to his feet and marched into the courtyard. He squinted at the bright sunshine. Twenty-two members of the King’s Guard snapped to attention and saluted.

  “Who is the senior officer present?” Sterling asked.

  “That would be me, Lord Sterling. I am corporal Sm—”

  “Corporal,” Sterling interrupted. “I have pressing business in the village. I should be no longer than a day. Guard this castle as if your life depended on it.”

  Sterling walked
away, stopped, and turned.

  “Because it does.”

  Sterling took his horse from the stable and rode through the village. He stopped at Magdalena’s house. He rapped on the door.

  “It is I, Lord Sterling. Open the door!”

  He tapped his foot impatiently. He rapped again, harder.

  “Open this door, this instant, I say!”

  Nothing. Sterling lowered his shoulder and hit the door. It did not give.

  “Foul witch!” Sterling growled as he rubbed his shoulder.

  “I demand that you open this door in the name of the King of Morgenwraithe!”

  Sterling heard a click. The door swung away from the latch. He pulled his sword and used it to push the door open.

  “My Lady!” he called.

  But the air inside was stale and very still as if it had not known a human presence for some time. Sterling searched every room and found nothing.

  Where are you, Witch? Sterling thought.

  A voice seemed to whisper to him, from the dark places in the back of his mind.

  All roads lead to Islemar…

  Sterling rode hard out of the village—to the east, and the domain of Lord Nicolas Lamont.

  Sixty-Two

  Finn helped Jaclyn onto the horse. Dawn broke on the horizon. Second lieutenant Winston finished fastening an extra quiver of arrows to his horse’s saddle. He intended to help Caleb onto the horse’s back, but Caleb climbed on himself, as if he had done it a thousand times before.

  “We ride due south,” Finn told Winston. “And we continue by torchlight when it becomes necessary.”

  “How far south?” Winston asked. “Surely, not all the way to the border.”

  “No. There is a cave just north of the Border Guard’s camp. It may be guarded, but probably not by many. We may have to take it by force.”

  “I like those odds much better than dealing with the wizard.”

  “Someone’s coming,” Oliver said. “Leaving the village and riding hard—to the south.”

  “How many?” Lucien asked.

  “Two horses,” Oliver squinted. “Two riders on each, it seems. Children, or maybe women, riding in front.”

  Lucien ran to Oliver’s side. He got only a glimpse of the riders before they passed.

  “Those are members of Lamont’s guard. They are pushing their mounts hard.”

  “Could you see the riders in front?” Oliver asked.

  “No. But it looked like one of them wore a dress. Raynard and that monster are inside the village. And four people are driving their mounts like their lives depend on it,” Oliver said.

  He climbed onto his horse.

  “One of those riders is the queen.”

  “You don’t know that,” Lucien said.

  “I would wager my life on it.”

  “Wait!” Lucien called. He mounted his horse.

  “We will follow them—at a distance.”

  Raynard and his men marched through the village streets toward the castle. Hidden eyes watched them from behind doors, windows, and the corners of buildings. The presence of the King’s Guard in Islemar was rarely good news.

  Two guards manned the doors to Castle Islemar. The elder guard bowed his head.

  “Captain Raynard. You honor us with a rare visit. How may I help you?”

  “I need to see the queen.”

  “This way, Captain. I will alert Lady Lamont.”

  “Captain Raynard,” Robinette Lamont said. “I heard that you were in the village. Are you expecting a ship?”

  “No. I need to speak with the queen. It is most urgent.”

  Robinette tried to calm herself, but she could not keep her hands from shaking.

  “Jaclyn…was not feeling well. She said she was going back to bed.”

  Raynard stepped forward.

  “I’m afraid I must insist, My Lady. As I said, it is most urgent.”

  Robinette swallowed hard. She nodded. She turned and walked slowly to Jaclyn’s room. She opened the door.

  “Jaclyn, dear…oh, my,” Robinette feigned surprise. “I don’t know where she might be…”

  Raynard stepped past her into the empty room.

  “The queen is missing? Where is your husband, Lady Lamont?”

  “He has gone on a boar hunt with some of his men.”

  One of Raynard’s men joined them. He whispered in Raynard’s ear.

  “I am told that there are guards stationed at the seaside tower,” Raynard said. “Why is that?”

  “I…I have no idea, Captain.”

  Raynard turned and walked away quickly, followed by his men.

  Robinette sat down on Jaclyn’s bed, wringing her hands.

  Raynard stormed to the tower.

  “Stand aside,” he said to the guards there. The men knew better than to challenge the Captain of the King’s Guard.

  Raynard ran up the steps and threw open the first door. That room was empty. He ran to the other room.

  “By the gods!” he exclaimed.

  Dathien was still on his knees in the middle of the room. His breath was shallow. His eyes remained rolled up in the back of his head.

  “What magic could do this?” Raynard asked no one.

  He pushed past his men and descended the steps. He pushed the guards away from the door.

  “Where are the stables?” he demanded.

  One of the guards pointed.

  Raynard threw open the stable doors.

  “Stable boy!”

  “Yes, My Lord?” the boy dropped his pitchfork and ran forward.

  Raynard grabbed the boy by the throat and pushed him against the wall. He pulled his sword and held it to the boy’s neck.

  “Who has taken horses recently?”

  “C-Captain Finn, My Lord! And Lieutenant Winston, My Lord!”

  Raynard slung the boy to the ground.

  “Mount up!” Raynard growled to his men. “We ride south! Now!”

  “We’re pursuing Captain Finn?”

  “We ride…after traitors!”

  Sixty-Three

  The cannon blast leveled everything in its path. The soldiers of the Border Guard surrounded the center of the village. They were well shielded from any attack that Sir Edmund’s men might bring.

  “Infantry squad one!” The Captain yelled. “Advance forward! Squad two, ready your bows!”

  The northern squad marched forward side-by-side, with their shield in front. Eight citizens of the village cried out as they charged the moving squad. They screamed aloud and charged with swords and spears.

  “Squad two, loose!”

  Within three seconds, all eight men fell to the ground. Six died instantly. The other two looked up at The Captain and his corporal.

  “You have died—for nothing!” The Captain cried as he plunged his sword into the man’s heart.

  The Captain glared at the corporal. The corporal stood over a man who was begging for his life. He closed his eyes and ended the man’s life.

  The Captain turned.

  “Is the cannon reloaded?” he screamed.

  “In just one minute, my….”

  The soldier’s jaw fell open after a dark shadow passed over him.

  He pointed, unable to speak.

  But others found their voices.

  “Dragon! Take cover! A dragon!”

  “Mind your duties, you idiots!” the Captain screamed.

  The men acted as if they had not heard him at all. The Captain’s voice grew hoarse from screaming.

  “Get that cannon loaded and aimed at that hell-beast this instant!”

  The Captain scanned the village, looking for Sir Edmund.

  The air grew strangely still. And warm.

  “I will take great pleasure in your death.”

  The Captain’s blood ran cold.

  He whirled around and saw no one. He looked up.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met, Captain. I am the hell-beast. And that is precisely where I am going to send
you.”

  Simon pitched his head back. The Captain dove to the ground and rolled, just as the dragon’s fire blasted the ground. He ran to the center of his nearest squad and tore a shield away from a soldier’s hands.

  “Loose! Loose your arrows! Kill it!”

  The air filled with arrows before Simon had a chance to avoid them. Most of them missed, and a few bounced off of his scales. Four of them found soft flesh, two of those in his right wing.

  But two found his chest.

  “Ha, ha!” The Captain yelled. Some of the men pumped their fists. Simon roared in pain and flew above the trees.

  “Braun!! You lying, traitorous bastard! In league with the cursed son of Bailin! Sterling will boil you in oil before he takes your shriveled head!”

  “The cannon is ready, Captain!”

  “Good! Infantry squads one and two—forward!”

  Simon was so angry with himself that he welcomed the pain that throbbed in his chest. He flew to where Boone and Ben had stood earlier. They were gone.

  Screams came from the ranks of the Border Guard. Three soldiers fell dead—with arrows in their backs.

  “They’re behind us, Captain!”

  The Captain ran toward the fallen soldiers of squad two, still carrying the shield. The corporal followed him. The Captain spun around and shoved the corporal to the ground.

  “Are you an officer or a lap-dog, corporal? Stay with squad one!”

  The Captain scanned the horizon, looking for the location of the new threat. He saw nothing.

  But Simon did.

  Ben, Boone…and Helena. All with longbows.

  Simon landed behind them.

  “Boone. It’s me.”

  The three of them climbed down from the trees that provided their vantage points.

  “That was quite a flurry of arrows you took,” Ben said.

  “Were you hit, Simon?” Helena asked. “Oh, there’s one in your wing. Were you—?”