Dragons and Destiny

by Candy Rae

  Behind the four men, out of sight, padded Major Bellahouston’s insurance, a vadeln-pair of the Avuzdel, Danal and Asya.

  * * * * *

  Elliot and Robain

  “What does Philip call them?” asked Robain when he was introduced to their four-hoofed transportation for the first time.

  “Plodders,” answered Elliot, “he says that they’ll go on for miles girth deep in mud and mire.”

  “I can well believe it,” said Robain, regarding the ugly beasts. “Which one’s mine?”

  “That one,” said James, pointing to the big black at the end of the line. “Least that was the one Derek chose. You might as well take him.”

  “Chose?” queried a disbelieving Robain. The black gelding flicked an ear at Robain as he approached and stamped a hoof on the cobbles.

  Elliot was fastening his saddlebags. The clinches were stiff and he was cursing under his breath. He looked anything but a prince of the blood at that precise moment, wearing as he did the same nondescript garments as the others, of good quality but plain and unadorned.

  Ordinary merchants, a casual observer would have said. The four wore swords but that was not unusual for travellers using the Southern Trade Route. Philip mounted his own horse, a dappled grey with a box head and an evil looking eye. The two pack-mares were smaller than the riding horses, shaggy and sturdy.

  Philip’s sword was a quality one, with the slight curve on the blade that told of southern make. Robain glanced at Elliot’s; his was the same and like Philip’s decorated at the hilt. Northern swords were never decorated, nor was the blade curved - except for those carried by the Vada.

  There were three basic types of northern sword. The sword the infantry soldiers carried were short and wide bladed, designed for short stabbing strokes. Vadeln of the Vada carried the sabre, the metal hilt having a cantle shaped pommel, with a back strap, knuckle-bow and three curved quillons. The curved blade was double edged. The other weapon was the long-sword, the officer and cavalryman’s sword and it was this that Robain carried.

  The little cavalcade headed west.

  The road led straight out of Settlement. In these peaceful days no walls circled the town. Argyll’s one time enemy, Murdoch, was now a valuable trade ally.

  Robain led the way, Elliot followed then came Philip leading the spare riding mount. James was ‘tail-end-charlie’. He held the pack-mares on a loose rope. Pack-mares were bred for their complaisant nature and were not noted for their intelligence.

  Robain glanced behind and Elliot grinned. This was adventure with a capital ‘A’.

  One time more Robain glanced back. He would not see Hilla until Elliot was safely on his way home. Perhaps then he would get some leave. He was in love and with each bell he was travelling further away from Hilla - all for an endangered young princeling and the continued friendship between their countries. Robain felt disgruntled about the whole situation.

  It was during their second night’s stop that Robain learned that it wasn’t only he who was making a personal sacrifice to accompany Elliot on his tour of the north. Philip Ross had left four children and a dearly loved wife at home.

  “Luckily she is a sensible person,” Philip told Robain with whom he was sharing the small inn-chamber, the Baron having bowed to pressure from Elliot and James and allowed them to be together. “She has to be. I go where the Crown-Prince sends me.”

  “So why is it you here and not with your own prince. Doesn’t your young prince have his own guards?”

  “Too inexperienced,” answered Philip.

  “So you drew the short straw?”

  “He’s not a bad lad,” said Philip, “irresponsible sometimes, spoilt, but that’s his upbringing, not him. The Crown-Prince knows this. The main reason for this trip is not to show him the countries of his neighbours although I’ll grant you that that’s important but it’s to toughen him up, make him ready to take on the role of Crown-Prince when his grandfather dies. He’ll be a better king because of this, as long as we can keep him alive.”

  “Who would succeed if something were to happen to Elliot?”

  “His sister Susan.”

  “Did she send the assassins?” asked Robain, picturing a power-hungry princess who would do anything to gain her brother’s throne.

  “I suspect Prince-Duke Xavier, the Crown-Prince’s younger brother. Princess Susan’s betrothed is related to him through his wife.”

  “So what did your wife say when you told her you were going on this trip?”

  “She wasn’t happy but she accepted it. It was a royal command.”

  “Hilla wasn’t nearly as understanding as your wife. Remember her at dinner, the girl who spent most of the time talking to Elliot? We had come to an understanding, the Garda is pretty accommodating and posts married couples near to each other.”

  “Our women do not fight,” Philip said. “But surely she realised you had to go?”

  “Oh she realised it all right but that didn’t stop her being annoyed. She made her annoyance very clear. The making up was nice.”

  “So our wives and girlfriends have forgiven us and await our return with anticipation. James’s too.”

  “James is married? He doesn’t look old enough.”

  “He’s seventeen. He was married not long before we set out.”

  “I don’t imagine he was happy about this either.”

  “You have to understand something about us. Elliot asked him to come with him. It’s as simple as that. You don’t refuse a personal request from your future king. Also, James is perhaps the closest person Elliot has to a real friend. James realises this and if he doesn’t then his uncle certainly does. He’s Elliot’s future brother-in-law too. His younger sister is Elliot’s; you call it fiancée here do you not? They were formally betrothed before we left the palace.”

  “I understand a little,” Robain replied.

  “Always helps,” pronounced Philip cheerfully. “And what can’t be cured must be endured.” He slapped Robain on the back, “now we’d better go see what these young rascals are up to. The smells from the kitchens are aggravating my taste buds.”

  “Plain and wholesome.”

  “Plain and plenty of it is all I ask.”

  Over dinner Robain sat silent, ate and listened to the chatter. He realised that James was a happy go lucky lad little used to deep thinking. His chatter was full of the farms and villages they passed. Elliot was more inclined to make observations.

  After expressing his disappointment at not yet seeing even one of the Vada; he made one or two very astute observations about the differences between the inhabitants of their respective countries.

  “The people are so different Captain Hallam,” he said, “it’s amazing.”

  “In what way?” encouraged Robain.

  “They’re so open and friendly, not at all …” Elliot struggled for the words.

  “Cowed?” suggested Robain.

  Elliot didn’t take offence, he considered Robain’s answer. “Partly, but there’s more to it than that and it’s something for the life of me I can’t put my finger on.”

  “Perhaps it is something to do with the way in which they live,” suggested Robain. “This is a very prosperous part of Argyll; plenty of water, good arable land. The people here have plenty to be thankful for. Further inland, in the uplands life is not so easy, the land is not so rich and in the highlands and in the mountains it is harder still.”

  “But what about the people?” asked Elliot. “Are they the same?”

  “Yes, I think so,” answered Robain after some consideration.

  “But why is that?” pressed Elliot. “Surely they should be more unhappy?”

  “That’s a difficult one,” said Robain, “but if I do have to give an answer it would be because they are more free than your people. Argyll is a democracy and every adult, male and female, has a vote although not all exercise the right.”

  “I see,” said Elliot deep in thought. He fell silent, l
eaving James to resume his idle chatter.

  The next day Elliot rode at Robain’s side.

  “Where are you from, Captain?”

  “I was born on the Island of Hallam in the Great Eastern Sea.”

  Elliot looked surprised. “The Islands? How did you come to be an Officer in the Garda then? Are you a younger son who does not have an inheritance?”

  “I’m the oldest son,” Robain answered, “but me and my brothers, I have two, decided to make our lives here on the mainland. The farm is still there, it belongs to the three of us now that our parents are dead. We’ve got a good manager and the farm provides us with income to supplement our respective salaries.” Not for worlds did Robain want to tell Elliot why he, Liam and Ansell had left the island or of his vow to find his mother and sisters.

  “Will you ever go back?”

  “Perhaps for a visit,” replied Robain, “but my life is here and I would not wish to return for good.”

  “Where is Hallam exactly?”

  “A long way away, north-west.”

  “Is it a big island?”

  “Big enough. There are about a hundred or so farms of varying sizes. Ours is one of the biggest.”

  “Good farmland?”

  “Not as good as here but pretty good,” answered Robain, gazing into the distance, remembering happy days, before the pirates had come and destroyed everything. He decided to change the subject.

  “There’s a Supply Station coming up tomorrow,” he said, “how about we make a stop and have a look around?”

  Elliot promptly forgot all about the Island of Hallam.

  He plied Robain with so many questions about the Lind that the captain began to wish that he had never mentioned it and it took Philip to calm him down with the threat of riding past unless he shut up.

  * * * * *

  “Are you sure they’ll let us in?”

  It was afternoon and they were approaching the Supply Station. It was located amongst trees two miles inland of the Southern Trade Route.

  “All travellers are welcome,” answered Robain, “to water their horses, to feed, even a place to sleep if necessary.”

  “The Lind, will they be there?”

  “There’s always a few,” Robain replied with a sigh of patience. “The managers are always vadeln-paired and are a separate section within the Vada. Often an older pairing will retire to a Supply Station. This one isn’t one of the large ones. They don’t have a permanent Holad here. The bigger stations all have them. Express vadeln often stay overnight too but we’re unlikely to see any so early in the day.”

  “I know about the Express,” said Elliot “Do they know we’re coming?”

  “We were sighted long ago. Lind eyesight is very good.”

  “The Vada uniform is maroon isn’t it?” asked James kneeing his horse closer.

  “Yes and very smart it is too,” said Robain, “and remember you two, the Lind are intelligent, they talk and understand as much as us. Treat them as you would another person and don’t forget your manners.”

  As they approached the station Robain stood in his stirrups and returned the wave of the figure who was waving to them from the gate.

  “Hi there,” he shouted, “that you Duncin?”

  “Aye it is. And if it is not young Robain Hallam. “You on leave? Me and Stasya weren’t expecting you until winter.”

  “Unexpected leave,” grinned Robain bending down in the saddle to clasp the old man’s outstretched hand. “You’re looking well.”

  “Can’t complain and I must say that it is good to see you. How are Liam and Ansell? Your friends? Please introduce, it’s been quiet around here of late and I’m glad of a bit of company.”

  He turned faded blue eyes in the direction of the other three. He was as they realised, assessing them. His bushy eyebrows rose up in his forehead as he recognised their weapons.

  “Friends of Robain’s are friends of mine,” he said but Elliot got the distinct impression that this elderly, innocent looking man knew more about them and who they were than he cared to admit.

  Robain hastened with the introductions. “This is Baron Philip Ross of the Kingdom of Murdoch and his charges Kellen James Cocteau and Kellen Walter Merriman. They are on a tour of our country, as a finish to James and Walter’s education and as we are going the same way we decided to keep company.”

  “From Murdoch eh?” the old vadeln’s eyes gleamed.

  “You old rascal,” chaffed Robain, “you recognised them straight off.”

  He turned to Philip, Elliot and James, “this my friends is a very old friend of mine, Duncin, vadeln-paired with Stasya. Where is she by the way? She’s usually by your side.”

  Duncin laughed. “Please to meet you sirs and welcome. Stasya’s gone to one of the nearby farms. They’re culling there today and you know how she enjoys fresh meat.”

  “I remember.”

  “There are no free herds hereabouts,” he explained to the southerners, “and she’s not as young or as fast as she once was. Hunting’s difficult for her nowadays.”

  “Is her leg no better?” enquired Robain. “Stasya and Duncin were in a fight with a wral some years ago, a big one and she came off the worse.”

  “Couldn’t continue with the Ryzck after that,” Duncin explained for the benefit of Robain’s companions, “so we came here to run the station.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” said Philip, dismounting and jerking his head at James and Elliot. “Where should we put our mounts?” he asked.

  “There’s a paddock out back, come and I’ll show you.”

  Elliot gazed around the Supply Station with interest. It was surrounded by a wooden palisade about man height and was oval in shape. The paddock was at one end with shelters for use in inclement weather and a large barnlike affair stood beside it. The door was open and as he unsaddled his horse he saw that it was full of walda hay and another type he didn’t recognise. To the right was a long low building with small windows, glassed with small panes with a wide swing-door at the end.

  Another smaller building came next and another after that. In front of that was a well. All the buildings were made of wood, even the roofs which were steep gabled like those in the more northerly duchies in Murdoch where rain was more frequent.

  “Guest rooms are there,” said Duncin with an expansive wave of his arm. “Two to a room and if you could take the ones at the far end I’d be grateful. I’m expecting some vadeln in tonight and the nearer ones are those with couches for the Lind, but you’ve been here before Robain so you know what’s what. Tend your beasts and I’ll get the kala on. I’m sure you could all do with a mug.”

  “We’ll be two claps of a bell,” promised Robain as he ushered the others towards the paddock.

  A quarter bell later and several shades lighter (the trade route was dusty and there were washing basins in the rooms) Robain led them into the first of the smaller buildings.

  “This is the communal one,” he said, “kitchens in here and tables and chairs. The very small building over there belongs to Duncin and Stasya. In Lindish it’s called a daga, means home.”

  Duncin had both a steaming jug of kala and some chunky biscuits waiting for them.

  “Seat yourselves,” he invited, “and wire in. I made them myself. I’ve become a bit of a cook since Stasya and I came here. Even she has complimented me … on occasion.”

  Elliot sat down, James beside him and Duncin pushed over the jug. “Careful, it’s heavy,” he warned.

  “Smells good,” said an appreciative Elliot.

  “What? The kala or the jumbles?”

  “Both,” answered a hungry Elliot, reaching out and taking the top jumble from the pile. He bit into it.

  “This is delicious,” he beamed. “May we eat them all?”

  He was eating the last crumbs of his third when the swing doors opened and Stasya limped in.

  Elliot was facing the door. He sat there, mug of kala half way to his mouth as she sauntered t
owards them, her blue eyes alive with interest.

  “Good day,” she uttered, “pleased I am to be greeting you,” and she lapsed into a string of Lindish which left Philip, James and Elliot open mouthed although Robain understood some words here and there.

  He grinned and winked at Duncin.

  “Good to see you again Stasya.”

  “And I you,” she crinkled her mouth in the manner denoting pleasure.

  Elliot noted that she had very large and very white shiny teeth as he struggled to his feet conscious of James and Philip copying him although he had eyes only for Stasya. One of his dreams had come true. Here right in front of him was one of the fabulous Lind and she was close enough to touch. He cast an admiring glance at her as he bowed.

  Gods, she was a wonderful creature. Her coat was long, greyish white with faint streaks of tan and orange. The hairs on her face were white.

  She is nothing like the Larg. My tutors were wrong.

  Stasya was preening herself.

  “My appearance surprises you?” she asked Elliot who came to himself with a start with the shock of being addressed.

  “Yes, no,” he said in confusion. “My Lady, it is my honour and privilege to meet you.”

  She sat on the floor beside him and a blissful Elliot sank back into his chair.

  “You have not met any of my sisters or brothers before?” she enquired, holding his gaze with her compelling blue eyes. They were large and full of intelligence.

  “No My lady,” he replied, “I come from the south.”

  “Ah, that explains it,” she turned her gaze to Duncin. “We have other guests tonight with these four. Have you this told them?”

  How does know we were staying the night? Then Elliot remembered. She and Duncin were mind-linked. Even though she had not been in the room she would know everything that had passed between them. That unsettled him and he wished he’d paid more attention to what Robain had been trying to explain about the Lind. He began to panic. Can she hear what I am thinking? He turned and looked at her.