Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga

by Tyson, Mark

  “Did Tatrice tell you the story of Signal Hill?” Gondrial asked.

  “Aye, you all are very lucky to have gotten out of that forsaken place alive, very impressive indeed.”

  “I thought so. People tend to loosen their tongues around you freely, Sir Knight.”

  Dorenn watched as Rennon fidgeted at Bren and his explanations. Dorenn knew Rennon did not believe all the dragon knight was saying. Rennon’s twitching nose and searching eyes gave him away. Gondrial’s line of questioning did not make Rennon feel any better in Dorenn’s eyes.

  “Broodlord, I have always been led to believe that dragon knights were very secretive, yet you give us information generously, why?” Dorenn asked for Rennon’s sake more than for himself.

  Bren appeared visibly offended. He paused to drink down his ale. “Such knowledge is not something you would want to hear. I have spoken at length with the mage Ianthill, and he has informed me that you know little of the ways of dragons. For this reason, and other reasons I will keep to myself, I will not answer your question directly but know this: I am a dragon knight and a fellow passenger on this journey of life. Anything that interests my dragon friends also interests me.”

  “The dragons have seers?” Vesperin asked.

  “Of course they have seers,” he eyed Vesperin, “and clerics of Loracia, you may be surprised to hear.”

  Vesperin was surprised. “What god does your master worship?”

  “Enough questions for now, lads,” the broodlord said, clearly irritated.

  Dorenn took another gulp of his ale, and the room began to spin around him; a sharp pain ensued at his temples. He looked up, saw the laughing faces of his friends, and realized they perceived nothing wrong. Dorenn tried to speak, but no words came from his mouth. In his mind’s eye, he saw a snake in a nest with young chicks. He tried to reach and help the young birds by grabbing the snake, but when he reached out, fire leapt from his hand, burning the nest to cinders. The snake burst into flames, and then the tree caught fire, and finally the forest was ablaze. Dorenn was trying to put out the flames, but something was pulling him away. Am I dreaming? he thought.

  “Open your eyes, lad!” Bren was fanning his face with his huge hands. Dorenn lethargically opened his eyes to see he was on the floor. Bren began shaking him vigorously. “Ah, there we go. No more ale for you tonight, I think,” he said, helping Dorenn to his feet.

  “Something is wrong,” Dorenn said as he sat back in his chair.

  “Aye, you are drunk, and you fell out of your chair,” Rennon said laughing.

  “No, something else is wrong. The ship is sailing. We are being left here.” He gasped as he had an epiphany. “Not everyone is who they seem to be.”

  “I think we need to get back to the ship and put you to bed, Dorenn,” Gondrial said. “I have never seen an innkeeper’s son that could not hold his ale before,” he laughed. Gondrial downed his ale and then stood up. “Let’s get him back to the ship.”

  “Wait a moment, let me see if he is ill,” Vesperin said as he put his hand on Dorenn’s forehead. Vesperin mumbled a prayer and then opened his eyes wide. “What is happening to you, Dorenn?” he mumbled.

  “I don’t know. Get to the ship!”

  Suddenly concerned, Bren sprinted with unimaginable speed to where he could see the ship. He became a blur of black and red as he moved. A few moments later, he rejoined the other four. “The ship is safely moored at the dock. There is no sign of any disturbances. Are you certain you are all right, Dorenn?”

  “No, I’m clearly not all right.”

  Rennon put his hand on Dorenn’s forehead and then pulled a piece of asber bark from his pouch. “Here, chew this. It feels like you may have a fever.”

  Dorenn took the bark and began chewing it.

  “What did you feel when you touched him, Vesperin?” Gondrial asked, now growing increasingly concerned.

  “I felt evil within him, rising like the tide. I can’t explain it.”

  “We need to find Ianthill as soon as we get back to the ship. He will know what is happening,” Gondrial said.

  Dorenn found it increasingly difficult to walk and talk the closer they came to the ship, and Bren had to carry him the rest of the way. Vesperin began mumbling his healing prayers, and Gondrial ran to find Ianthill.

  Dorenn tried to hold on to what he was seeing and feeling, but other images were clouding his mind. “What is happening?” he heard himself say.

  As soon as they got Dorenn into bed aboard ship, Bren had Rennon fetch some water from the galley and told Vesperin to find more blankets.

  “What is happening to me? Rennon?”

  “Bren has gone to fetch you some water, Dorenn,” Rennon said. “Lie still and try not to talk.”

  “What in the name of Ashonda is going on here?” Ianthill asked as he entered the room. Ianthill’s face was ashen, and sweat beaded up on his brow.

  “I think he will be fine, Ianthill; it must have been all that ale,” Rennon said.

  “Ale? How many did he have?”

  “Three Lux Amarou Stout ales, I think,” said Gondrial.

  “Aye, I believe that is the correct amount,” Bren said as he returned with a tankard of water.

  “Lux Amarou ale! I am surprised he could walk,” Ianthill said.

  Bren smiled. “Actually, I carried him.”

  “I see,” Ianthill said as an unintentional sneer pursed his lips. “Well, I don’t think there is anything nefarious going on here; just a case of someone who cannot handle his ale.” He patted Dorenn on the head. “Get some sleep now, boy, if you can.”

  Vesperin and Rennon stayed in the cabin with Dorenn while Bren took Gondrial and Ianthill aside. “You may want to speak to the captain, Master Ianthill.”

  “Oh, why is that?” Ianthill inquired.

  “After I carried Dorenn to his cabin, I went to fetch him some water. I found the captain had been preparing to leave. He had pulled the moorings but had not retracted the gangplank yet. I believe our sudden return from the tavern caught him off guard.”

  Gondrial tugged at his goatee. “If he didn’t pull the gangplank first, he was probably trying to sneak off.”

  “Aye, the crew was moving about, making ready to sail. I had a, well, let’s say discussion with the captain and first mate. They both should be conscious by now if you would like to question them.”

  Ianthill smirked and patted the broodlord on the shoulder. “Well done, Bren. The speed of the dragon knight is legendary.” He turned to Gondrial. “Come with me, Gondrial, the captain has some explaining to do.”

  Chapter 14: The Cave

  Trendan watched as soldiers marched uniformly right up to the door of the Tiger’s Head Inn, just arriving from Seabrey to the north. With reports of the Scarovian army amassing just over the mountains, Trendan felt it was a good time to serve the army as a freelance scout. Brookhaven had been teaming with legions of soldiers for a week now, and the villagers were anxious to be rid of them. Lourn and Dellah still worried endlessly about Dorenn. In fact, ever since Trendan had returned with the news of the Dramyd attack, Lourn and Dellah constantly watched the west for signs of their son’s return. Fresh supply wagons sent from the Vale by Seancey were all but spent now, and the inn was sparse in goods and supplies. Lourn’s only supply line, despite the dangers, was a new peddler named Grentley that had taken up where Fadral had left off. Grentley put forth a grand effort, but he was always late, and his wares were second rate at best.

  Trendan sat on the porch of the inn and lit a pipe as he watched the commanders line their men up for an impending inspection by General Andrathin Rellagorn, commander of the armies of the North and West. The general had arrived sometime during the night, and the soldiers had been maneuvering back and forth through the streets since daybreak.

  After about half an hour with still no sign of the general, Trendan decided to go to the inn to see Dellah and Lourn. He had tried to make a point of visiting the couple every day to hel
p reassure them Dorenn was well. When Trendan entered the inn, an overwhelming feeling of loss came over him. He could remember when the Tiger’s Head Inn’s afternoon patrons gathered to enjoy ale and merriment. Families from the village and surrounding farms would fill the inn to capacity, singing and talking. Now, it was mostly empty with only a few, usually drunken, patrons.

  Dellah saw him enter, and she hurried to him to give him a big hug. “Any news yet of Dorenn?”

  “None that I have heard,” Trendan said, saddened at seeing Dellah’s hopes fade.

  She straitened Trendan’s tunic. “I was certain he would return at the news of Brookhaven being in such danger.”

  Trendan swallowed hard. “I have come to say I will be scouting the mountains for the next week. I strongly suggest you and Lourn move along with the villagers heading west. It is not safe in Brookhaven any longer.”

  Dellah smoothed out her apron anxiously. “Nonsense, this is my home. Lourn and I built it from the ground up, and I will not be forced out. What if Dorenn returns and he cannot find us?”

  “Mistress Dellah,” Trendan pleaded, “if the army I have seen in the mountains comes this way, there may be no inn for Dorenn to come home to. He will know you moved west.”

  “I will take my chances.”

  “Your stubbornness could get you killed, mistress. What if Dorenn comes home to that?”

  Dellah arched up. “Look who speaks to me so, Trendan Faylor. I have seen you knee high to a grasshopper, and I will not abide by that tone from you!”

  “Forgive me, Mistress Dellah, I was merely concerned with your wellbeing.”

  Dellah patted Trendan’s chest. “I know you were, lad. Now go and serve Symboria and make us all proud.”

  Trendan kissed her forehead. “I will, mistress, I promise I will.”

  Trendan reluctantly turned for the door.

  “Trendan dear,” Dellah stopped him.

  “Yes, mistress?” he answered.

  “Who will be going along with you on your scouting trip?”

  “Ganas Nashe, why?”

  “Good, he is a strong lad; give him my best wishes as well.”

  “I will, mistress,” Trendan said, and then he stepped out onto the porch.

  Trendan checked his bow, adjusted his quiver, checked his sword, and headed to the outpost headquarters located in the oldest and largest house in Brookhaven.

  Traditionally, the house was the home of Brookhaven’s town elder, but the village had built another house nearer to the town square for the elder to live in a few seasons ago. The old house consisted of one floor with four rooms of equal size. The outside of the house was a bit overgrown with brush and snake vines, and the thatched roof was virtually undistinguishable from the vines growing into it. The soldiers had cleared away the vines covering the front windows to allow the general to have a better view of the main cobblestone street.

  Trendan entered the old house to stand face to face with General Rellagorn. The general was a tall man with a long greying beard. His steel blue eyes were cold and penetrating. His skin looked windblown. He had been exposed to the summer sun for far too long, but his silver armor overlaid with a blue and red tabard was impeccable.

  “Lad.” The general addressed Trendan and looked him over from top to bottom. “A scout?”

  “Aye, sir. Trendan Faylor at your service, my lord.” He bowed to the general.

  “Good, you must be local, yet I see a hint of elf in your features.”

  “I am half-elven, my lord, but Brookhaven is the only home I have known.”

  The general put on his remaining white glove. “I have great respect for what you are doing, lad. The armies of the West could use a few more such as you; brave yet dangerous thing scouting.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Well, carry on then,” he said.

  “Aye, sir.”

  Trendan watched the general leave. Several attendants rushed to the general’s side as he strolled away toward his men. Trendan found Ganas making final adjustments to his equipment. Ganas was dressed similarly to Trendan in a green tunic and breeches with a brown vest and jacket. Over his shoulder was his bow and quiver, and at his side was his sword. Two backpacks hung on either shoulder. Although he was much younger than Trendan, Ganas looked older. He had the face and build of a stout Brookhaven mountain man. He stood a head taller than Trendan, and he sported a brown and red beard on his pleasant round face.

  “There you are, Trendan, I was beginning to worry.”

  “I had to stop by the inn and talk with Mistress Dellah.”

  “Ah, is she still insisting on staying in Brookhaven?”

  “Of course she is, in spite of my insistence that she and Lourn leave.”

  “She hopes Dorenn will return.”

  “I have told her the story of the Dramyd attack many times, and Morgoran made it very clear to me that Dorenn would not be able to come home for some time.”

  “Did he say if Dorenn would ever be returning?” Ganas asked.

  “I am not certain. I asked him that question, and he mumbled something about the kings of old, and then he called me betrayer. He mumbled some more and told me Dorenn had to fulfill some purpose before he could return to Brookhaven.”

  “What purpose?”

  “He would not say, or at least I could not understand him.”

  Ganas hefted another backpack over his shoulder. “Well, I am ready; I have the horses tied in back. Captain Argore has his troops posted above the southern pass. We are to report to him there.”

  “We had better get moving then if we want to reach the pass by nightfall,” Trendan said. Ganas glanced back at the valley where Brookhaven glistened in the afternoon sun. Trendan noticed the expression on Ganas’s face. “What is it?”

  Ganas sat upright and adjusted his weight in the saddle. “I just got this terrible feeling that I will never see Brookhaven again.”

  “My brother said the same thing before he went to fight in the Ishrak wars, but he came back and Brookhaven was still there to greet him.”

  “Brookhaven was not in danger of being overrun in the Ishrak wars, Trendan.”

  “True, but any soldier going off to war feels that they may not see their home again. It’s natural.”

  “I suppose you are right,” Ganas said.

  They rode east a few hours with the sun at their backs. The trail smelled of wildflowers, and the Jagged Mountains loomed in all their majesty before them. With the beauty of the mountains and the greenery of the trees and underbrush, Trendan found it difficult to believe he was riding into danger. After a brief stop at a spring for water, Trendan saw something out of place far down the trail ahead. He strained to see what it was. Something was off in a clump of trees on the northern trail up the side of the mountain. “What is that?”

  Ganas squinted to see what Trendan had spotted. “What? I see nothing.”

  “On the northern trail, it looks like a wagon lodged in those trees halfway up the mountain.”

  Ganas sat back in his saddle. “You forget about those half-elven eyes of yours. I cannot see near that far away.”

  “Sorry, Ganas, I did forget. Do you think we should investigate? It may be someone in trouble.”

  Ganas looked to the sky and then at the eastern trail. “I think we have time to scout it out.”

  As the two scouts approached the wagon, it became obvious it was missing a wheel and there were no horses. Trendan dismounted and shouted his presence, but no one answered. Ganas stayed on his horse with his bow cocked as Trendan opened the rear door and peered inside. “The wagon has not been here long. It looks as if a few provisions were gathered. I would presume by the wagon’s size that it was pulled by one horse and had one, perhaps two, occupants. Whomever it belonged to rode the horse back toward the mountains; I can still see the hoof tracks.”

  “Should we follow the tracks?” Ganas asked.

  “I think so. I’m curious now. I don’t see any signs of injury or strug
gle, but they still may need help.”

  “Is there anything in the wagon to arouse suspicion?”

  “Not that I can see. In fact, I think the owner may be a woman.”

  “A woman? What makes you think that?”

  Trendan climbed up into the wagon and pulled out a dress with the tip of his sword.

  Ganas un-nocked his arrow. “This is no place for a woman in distress; the outpost will have to wait.” He peered at the darkening sky. “We need to find her before nightfall. These mountains will be freezing before morning.”

  “I wonder why she went back up into the mountains. Brookhaven is only a few hours’ ride,” Trendan observed. He mounted his horse. “This way,” he said, and the two scouts began following the trail. An hour later, Trendan saw what he thought must have been the woman’s destination, a cave partially hidden by a copse of trees.

  “If she isn’t hurt, we’ll take her back to Brookhaven. I’m sure the general will understand,” Ganas said.

  “Agreed,” Trendan said.

  Just outside the cave, Trendan stopped and dismounted. “Hail, you in the cave, are you well?” he shouted. There was no reply. “We are citizens of Brookhaven; may we assist you? Our village is not far, and we can escort you there if you wish.” The two scouts waited a few more minutes. “Are you hurt?”

  “Nay, I am not hurt,” said a woman’s voice. “I will come out, but know that I carry a sword and know how to use it.”

  “You are safe with us, my lady, we will not harm you,” Ganas shouted back.

  “Very well, I am coming out with my mount.”