Dragons and Destiny

by Candy Rae

  “You seem to have heard rather a lot,” observed Rilla with a sly twinkle.

  “I was merely walking past the office,” said the unrepentant Shona, “and it’s no secret, the window was open and they weren’t trying not to be overheard. Nothing dishonourable in overhearing something when just passing by.”

  “True,” said Rilla, placing the mended harness down beside her, “so what now?”

  “We start getting ready. Danei has gone to the pens to get something to eat. Zawlei?”

  “He ate this morning, said that he wanted a decent meal before all the best were gone. Twenty-fifth Ryzck is due in this evening.”

  “I think we should go and get something to eat too. Then we can come back here and begin packing.”

  “That seems a most sensible plan,” said Rilla in a prim voice and getting to her feet. “You know Jilmis, he’ll go through our packs with a fine toothcomb when he comes to inspect and once he’s pronounced himself satisfied we’d be lucky to get more than a sniff at the dregs in the cook pots.”

  Shona agreed and the two of them made haste to vacate the cubicle and descend on the cookhouse, passing an increasing number of excited cadets on the way.

  As Shona had told Rilla, Jilmis and Fastia hadn’t intended that tomorrow’s departure be kept a secret and the news had percolated.

  The babble of voices followed them as they made their hurried advance towards the appetising odour that told them that spicy zarova stew was on the menu, a firm favourite of Rilla and Shona.

  “Are you excited?” asked Shona as they sat in the crowded dining hall putting away large helpings of stew and ricca with bamana fruit to finish up.

  “Scared yes, excited no,” Rilla replied, scraping the last vestiges of her meal off the plate.

  * * * * *

  The Susa

  Zaoaldavdr, Susa of the Avuzdel of Larg was in the midst of a moral quandary. Unlike the Avuzdel in the northern continent that recruited its members from all of the rtathlians, here one pack was the Avuzdel. The members lived high up in a remote mountain range to the far east of the nadlians. They were different from the other Larg. There was Lind in their ancestry, they thought differently and their telepathic abilities were more pronounced.

  For centuries the pack had trodden a fine line between obedience to the Largan and loyalty to the Lai. Like others of the Avuzdel they had searched for the Boton and had kept faith with their cousins in the north.

  It was difficult and dangerous.

  Like the other Larg packs they swore allegiance to the Largan. They sent their kohort to the wars, fought the Lindars, killed their cousins though it broke their hearts to do so, because keeping their real identity and mission secret was the more important. A conflict of loyalties was no stranger to Zaoaldavdr.

  Now the Largan was gathering his forces for the ultimate war. He was calling in the kohorts from all the desert packs and the furthest reaches of the lands to which Larg laid claim. It would be the biggest army of Larg that had ever gone to war.

  “We have to decide what we shall do,” he told the assembled members of the pack. “On the one paw we have our oath of loyalty to the Largan but we have older oaths. The Largan believes that with the help of the Dglai he will emerge victorious and rule over all. We have venerated the Lai who have guided our steps from generation to generation. Will we desert them now? Where do out loyalties lie? With the Largan? With the Lai? It cannot be both. Do we fight for the Largan? Do we hide? Do we fight with the north knowing that the Dglai are the real enemy?”

  “I believe that our oath is not to the Largan himself but to the Largan as leader and representative of all Larg,” said one.

  “That is the way the Lind think,” said another. “We are not Lind. We are Larg.”

  “Your grand-dam was a Lind,” said Zaoaldavdr with point.

  “The Lind protect everylind,” yet another said. “I like that idea.”

  “Protect,” said Zaoaldavdr with a dawning comprehension, “you have hit the paw on the head Anavdr. They protect. They do not attack. The Largan is the one doing the attacking. He is not protecting us; he is putting us in danger. I say that our oath to the Largan should be refuted. Does anylarg not agree?”

  Not one dissenting paw or voice was raised and Zaoaldavdr nodded his head.

  “I declare,” he said in a loud and formal voice, “that the kohort of our pack shall not obey the Largan and shall not fight. We will do what we can to stop the Largan bringing disaster on Larg.”

  Not one dissenting paw was raised.

  “Long Live the Lai.”

  * * * * *

  Rilla

  “Are you really scared?” asked Shona of Rilla as they made camp for the night.

  “Terrified,” admitted Rilla, “I can’t quite fully comprehend the fact that we’re actually here, on our way to Settlement and that war is coming.”

  “Do you think the rumours are true?” Shona asked as she began to divest herself of her shoulder armour. Rilla was doing the same, wriggling her shoulders to loosen the leather straps.

  “What rumours would that be?”

  “That we are going to the southern continent to help the Regiments hold off the Larg.”

  “I’m no genius at tactics,” Rilla replied, “but even I can see that it might make sense to hold them off before they come over the Island Chain rather than after.”

  Shona had been studying tactics longer than Rilla and wasn’t convinced.

  “If I was the Susa,” she began.

  “Lai preserve us,” grinned Rilla.

  “If I was the Susa,” she began again, “I would let them come over the Chain. Let them hurl themselves against the walls and the ramparts, there’s no way they could get over them. Only so many kohorts can cross at any one time, the Vada and the Garda could hold them off for months if need be.”

  “That’s assuming the defences will hold,” argued Rilla. “It’s not just the Larg this time remember? These Dglai creatures are there and Susa Julia said that they have a weapon that might be able to take out even the thickest fortification.”

  “I still think Settlement would be better,” insisted Shona.

  Rilla didn’t answer, concentrating on removing her armour.

  “That’s it,” she said at last, unbuckling her leg greaves and stretching her legs. “You know Shona,” she said, sitting up and hugging her knees, rocking to and fro (she was trying to get the kinks out of her muscles, they had been riding since dawn), “I think I know where we are.”

  Shona followed Rilla’s gaze.

  “See these hills over there? They look awfully like the hills beside Dunetown, where I come from.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I’m looking at them from another direction but I’m pretty sure they’re the same ones. I wonder if I’d be allowed to go visit the Inn on the way past? I’d like to see my mother, brother and sister again before it all starts.”

  What Rilla didn’t say but Shona understood was that it might be the last time. Soldiers died in battles.

  “I’d like to see Zilla,” Rilla added.

  “Why don’t you ask Weaponsmaster Jilmis if we can go?” suggested Shona, “he can only say no and we needn’t stay long.”

  “We?”

  “Course I’m going too. Can’t let you face your father on your own. Look, you go and get us both something to eat. I can smell the stew bubbling on the cook fires and I’m starving. I’ll go and ask Jilmis.”

  Shona leapt up and was gone before Rilla could think of any objections.

  Rilla hunted out their mess tins and made her way to the cook fires. Shona was right, he could only say no and she did so badly want to see Zilla again, even if it was only for a quarter bell.

  * * * * *

  Rilla and Zilla

  Zilla was outside getting some fresh air when she spied the two vadeln-pairs approaching the inn at a run, that long loping run that ate up the miles and for which the Lind were famous.

&nbs
p; The inn had been busy since Zak had left and they were short handed with half the male servants and two of the female ones off to the war.

  No Vada Ryzcks had stopped by. They used the Supply Stations and Zilla knew that there was one not far away to the west and another to the east.

  She wondered what the four wanted.

  Perhaps the Supply Station has run out. Oh I do hope so. I can ask about Rilla.

  They were getting closer now and Zilla squinted her eyes to see the better. Two women and definitely Vada. Hope rose within her as she realised who they might just be. It couldn’t be Rilla herself could it?

  Zilla moved forward, stumbling in her eagerness to be the one to greet them. One of the riders waved and Zilla cried out in delighted surprise.

  “Rilla. It is you.”

  Zawlei came to a skittering stop beside her and Rilla leapt down from his back.

  The two sisters hugged. Zilla was crying and Rilla’s eyes were damp.

  “I couldn’t be so close and not come and see you,” said Rilla, “Lai’s wings, its good to see you after all this time.”

  Shona stayed on Danei’s back, “we don’t have long,” she warned Rilla. “Jilmis said we should be quick.”

  “I know, I know,” Rilla answered as she looked round the courtyard. “Where are Mother and Zak?”

  “Zak’s gone with the Militia,” Zilla answered. “Mother’s in some state worrying about him, Hilla too.”

  “Father?”

  “Most displeased. He got Zak an exemption but he didn’t take any notice if it and went anyway. Why are you here? You’ve not graduated yet surely?”

  “When the Vada goes to war the cadets do too,” Rilla answered, “except for the very youngest and the beginners.”

  “Mother will be even more upset now. She thought you were safe at Vada.”

  “No such luck,” said Shona who was regarding the youngest triplet with interest. Rilla is right, she is stunningly beautiful. “Hi Zilla,” she introduced herself, “pleased to meet you and this is my Danei.”

  Zilla greeted Danei with a low bow which Danei returned, whiskers twitching.

  “Mother’s in the kitchen helping cook,” said Zilla. “Father’s gone into town. If you go through …”

  Rilla was gone leaving Zilla with Shona, Danei and Zawlei. The latter Zilla had met before, that day, a year ago when he had taken her sister away.

  Zilla stood undecided. Should she go to the kitchens or should she stay?

  Zawlei stepped towards her.

  “I am pleased to see you again Zilla,” he said, “last time …”

  “Last time you were in a rush to get away before Father tried to stop you, I know.”

  “Rilla and her mother come here,” he said. He whuffled and grinned at her. “Wait here with me.”

  “You will look after her won’t you?” she asked. “Promise me that you will.”

  “I promise,” said Zawlei and Zilla placed her small hand on his head, stroking him behind the ears much as she stroked her pony Lightfoot.

  The two girls and their Lind left a scant half bell later, laden with bags of savoury pastries that Zanda said would keep fresh for days.

  Zilla and her mother stood and watched them go.

  “Another one to worry about,” said a mournful Zanda. “At least you’re still here little Zilla. You are a great comfort to me.”

  Little did Zanda know that Zilla had come to a decision about her future which did not involve her sitting quietly at home while both her triplet sisters went to war.

  * * * * *

  Isobel

  Pierre, Duke of Cocteau stormed into the family quarters of his castle in what could only be described as a towering rage, shouting out imprecations as he called for the servants.

  The ladies, Isobel included, heard and gazed at each other with consternation.

  “Whatever can it be?” asked Duchess Anne as she laid her embroidery to one side. “I’d better go and see otherwise he’ll be upsetting all the servants and then goodness knows what’ll happen.” She was moving towards the door. “Keep on with your work girls,” she added as she exited to go and calm her husband.

  “Wonder what’s happened,” pondered Katia.

  “Must be something truly terrible,” added Isobel, catching Katia’s eye and giggling. Even Anne joined in the laughter, her father frequently, as her mother called it, ‘went off the deep end’ about various matters, often trivial ones.

  “If we’re very quiet,” suggested Jennifer, “we’ll be able to hear what they are saying. He certainly sounds furious.”

  They bent over their sewing again, but there was none of the light talk and banter that had graced the solar before the Duke had returned.

  Everyone was ‘all ears’ listening to what was being said. The Duke was doing most of the talking or shouting to be more accurate and the Duchess appeared to be struggling to get a word in.

  “I always said he was too young to be appointed Lord Marshall. My brother would have been a far better choice. Some cock and bull story about dragons in the north and others coming to attack us. A northern plot, that’s what it is. Prince-Duke Xavier agrees with me. Peter Duchesne wants me to fortify my borders and prepare the castle for a siege. I ask you. No, we go to the manor as planned.”

  “But …”

  “I’m not changing my plans. Anyway, the manor is defensible, it has a huge moat. I’ll bring in some levies if it will make you feel better but we’re not staying here during the summer heat just because Peter Duchesne is in a panic.”

  “The Crown-Prince?” ventured Anne.

  “Fool of a Prince. He actually believes him. He’s bringing in the Crown-Princess and the Princesses, says they’ll stay at Fort’s Citadel until the crisis is over. Crisis. There’s no crisis, just Peter Duchesne getting his pants in a knot. Man’s an idiot. No, we go to the manor as we planned. You can start preparing the household tomorrow.”

  “If my nephew says there is danger then there is,” Anne Cocteau argued. “And what about Isobel?”

  “She comes with us. Paul wanted her at Fort but I refused. He’s recalled young Elliot, not because of the crisis I may add, the King is becoming very frail.”

  “But …”

  “No buts. She comes with us. The manor is closer to Fort anyway. Easier to get her there when Elliot does get back.”

  He stormed off, leaving a worried Anne standing alone. She turned and walked back to the solar. “Ladies,” she announced, “I presume you heard what he had to say. We go to the manor as planned.”

  As Isobel got ready for bed that night, she was sharing a room with Katia, she made a comment about what they had overheard that evening.

  “Looks like I’ll be a married woman sooner than I thought but I wonder what all the rest of it was about.”

  “I haven’t any more of a clue than you have,” said Katia, “but if Elliot is on his way here then so is James. We were together such a short time.”

  “I know,” said Isobel, “perhaps you’ll get the chance to be alone when he returns. You’ll have to return for my wedding day though.”

  “Nothing could stop me,” said Katia.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise,” Katia replied as she gave Isobel a hug.

  * * * * *

  Danal and Tala

  Danal, Tala, Philip, Derek and the four Lind, Asya, Inalei, Jilsei and Denei all lay as quiet as vuz in the smallest cargo hold on Captain Rand’s ship the Armageddon as she docked at Port Duchesne so that Elliot, James and Robain could disembark. They were hoping that they wouldn’t be required to stay there long. It was dark and dank, the smells were unimaginable, especially for the Lind whose sense of smell was very acute.

  Their ears were flicking with tension and twitched every time they heard one of the small scurriers who infested all vessels dart past. They were sitting as still and silent as they could.

  Once Elliot and the other two had disembarked they would sail east along
the coast until they reached the private wharf of a relative of Philip. Baron James Ross held land right beside the water in the Duchy of Graham.

  Philip was positive that his distant cousin would help them, especially as Philip’s wife was from one of the ducal houses, and as one of the Crown-Prince’s friends he had considerable influence within the kingdom.

  “James is my wife’s uncle,” Philip was telling them all in a low voice. “We’ll not get through without his help. That is why I have come with you.”

  “Philip has royal connections,” teased Derek.

  “Through marriage only,” Philip corrected him.

  “Everyone’s connected to everyone here in Murdoch,” agreed Derek, “and Philip’s family is an old one. The initial Ross Barony dates back to the early years. Philip’s ancestor was one of Elliot the First’s generals.”

  “We’re a junior branch,” said Philip, still being careful to keep his voice low.

  “What’s the royal connection?” asked an interested Tala.

  Philip thought for a moment, “well, the easiest way to explain, my wife is the daughter of the Duke of van Buren. He was married to Princess Mary, sister of the Crown-Prince. I suppose I’m a kind of uncle to Elliot, once removed. I wouldn’t presume. I was one of the Boy Companions to Crown-Prince Paul.” Philip looked down at the dirty deck. “I suppose I’ve not really left him since - until he asked me if I’d take Elliot north.”

  “Guilty feelings?” Danal enquired.

  “Some,” Philip admitted, “with these recent attacks on the family I feel I should have been there.”

  “Elliot needed you too,” Derek interrupted. “A body can’t be in two places at once. Wonder what happened to that other ruffian, the one that got away at Settlement.”