King's Dragon: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 2

by William Culbertson

  #

  The morning of the next day, the second after the battle with the Tharans, Dax still had no energy or ambition. He had not slept well. His left arm had itched all night long, and no matter what position he had tried, his ribs had throbbed with pain. Today he felt no better, even though the doctor assured him he was healing better than she had expected. Reassured but dubious, Dax forced himself to struggle through a stack of reports and paperwork, hoping it would distract him. He worked, but he had to do it sitting on the couch. At least he had only fallen asleep once so far this morning.

  His first meeting of the day had been with Captain Torrage. He quizzed the man closely about his Akomakian troops. Finally Dax asked, “How well were you able to work with the militia guarding West Gate?”

  “Tell the truth, after what the lancers did to the Tharans, they probably could have held off the lot of them without us. Oh, we helped, mind you. That’s where we took our casualties.” He sat on a chair across from the couch where Dax reclined with several cushions propping him up into a semicomfortable position.

  Torrage shifted on the chair, looking ill at ease, which made Dax curious about what the man had to say next. “Uh, the city folk who helped . . . The women, I mean . . .”

  “The Queen’s Legion,” Dax supplied.

  “Yes, sir. The women of the Queen’s Legion. I never knew we had a fighting force like that in East Landly.”

  “We didn’t until a short time ago. It was the queen’s idea. She said the women of the city would be willing to fight to protect their hearths and homes—their sons and daughters.”

  The captain looked at Dax intently. “I would rather have faced a lioness protecting her cubs.” He shuddered. “I saw those women take on a few Tharans who crossed our line. Between their staves and their knives, those unlucky Tharan bastards did not get one foot closer to the city.” He shuddered a little and looked down. “Makes me think of women a little different now, that does.”

  Commander Baffen had been his next visitor. His main business was to present a draft order enabling the lancers to reform their command structure on a temporary basis. Dax reviewed it and saw that it made sense with what he knew of the lancers. After Dax had signed it, Baffen said, “One other thing.” He glanced down then looked back at Dax. “I’d like to see to the dead in the Chammanie Valley.”

  Dax nodded. “Achelis has been organizing an expedition . . .” He paused. “A recovery mission, which should be ready to leave tomorrow.”

  Baffen nodded. “The lancers would like to lead.”

  Dax got slowly to his feet and walked to the chair where the man sat. “I know you would,” he said sympathetically and laid his hand on Baffen’s shoulder, “but we need you and most of your men here in the city. Send a small mounted escort along with them in case there’s trouble. They will be an honor guard for the return of any remains.” It would be a horrible task, but one that had to be done. Rivers of lancers’ blood had been shed, and the whole kingdom would feel the pain.

  #

  After he sent Baffen away, Dax told Captain Achelis he needed some time to relax before he called in the next appointment. He stretched out on the couch because he was shaky on his feet. He would have to pace himself carefully today.

  “You’ve been talking to the doctor, haven’t you?” Kahshect interrupted.

  Dax lay back against the couch and shifted enough to take the pressure off his left arm. “Of course I’ve talked to the doctor. She’s stops to see me twice a day.”

  “I mean, you’ve been talking to the doctor about me, haven’t you?”

  He smiled. “Now whatever makes you think that?”

  “Most humans who have never been around dragons are somewhat more circumspect in their approach to us.”

  “So naturally you assumed I’d warned her about your notion of fun.”

  “She offered to make me matching scars on my other wing. She said it would make me look ‘dashing.’”

  “You’re thinking about it then?” he asked, amused. When the dragon did not honor the question with a reply, he asked, “So were you able to ruffle her feathers?”

  “No, but I did ruffle her hair when I licked her.”

  “Licked her?” Dax started to laugh, then winced in pain. Amused, he considered for a moment what the doctor must have thought about the dragon’s wet, leathery tongue on her face. “You might want to be a little cautious. The next time she dresses your wounds, she might treat the cuts with horse liniment just to keep them supple.”

  “I gather from your feelings that horse liniment is not something that would be soothing.”

  Dax thought back to the prank that some upperclass cadets had pulled on him and his roommate his second year at Iron Moor. He and Weddle had been asleep when the cadets had snuck into their room and poured liniment onto the blankets covering their crotches. Moments later both he and Weddle were in the showers, trying to wash the fiery liquid off their privates, only to discover that water just made it sting all the worse.

  “Correct,” he replied to the dragon. “If I were you, I’d treat the doctor with a good bit of respect.”

  #

  The fourth day, Gadford Rudale arrived, and Dax was forced to think about something other than the immediate recovery from the Tharan attack. They met well outside the city, where the dragons Kahshect and Birworeth could join them. Travel was hard for Dax. His ribs no longer throbbed all the time, but he could not sit a horse in comfort. He rode in a carriage on a nest of pillows, but he still hurt every time they bounced over a rough spot in the road. Atch and Onam, newly assigned as his aides, rode in the carriage with him, and an honor guard of lancers accompanied them.

  Rudale waited in a large clearing and watched the two men help Dax out of the carriage. After they had set up two chairs in the shade, the two aides retired, leaving the dragon-bound alone to talk.

  Once Dax settled in a chair, Rudale sat down too. “You look like you were trampled,” the man said without preamble.

  Dax smiled. “Good to see you too, Gadford.”

  Rudale made a dismissive gesture. “So now we have a pot of trouble brewing, that’s for sure, and we have to figure out how to stay on the right side of everything before we go any farther down the road.”

  “The city is safe, thank you, and the defenders had minimal casualties. However, the drakon killed at least five thousand lancers in the Chammanie Valley, not to mention the king, the crown prince, and most of the nobles in the kingdom. I should have better figures in a month or two.”

  For a minute Rudale just looked at Dax. Finally he said, “Okay, you’re right. I need to hear from you first. Give me the details of what happened here. Birworeth told me what he saw, but let’s have the whole of it.”

  Dax relaxed a little. Maybe the man would be willing to listen. He took time to sketch the outlines of the battle with the Tharans, but he also described Lady Aylssandra’s treachery and the Tharan party they had encountered in the North. In addition he brought up the Wave Dancer and his suspicions about how it had been used as a decoy to allow the Tharans access to the Dragon Lands.

  When Dax finished, Rudale sat and thought for a time. “I think I understand your suspicions,” he finally said. He got up from his chair and paced back and forth for a minute. He sat back down and rubbed his chin with one of his rough brown hands. “This was bad enough when I thought we were dealing with something that was a one-off scheme by a Tharan warlord. If you’re right about where the Tharans got that dragon, it would have taken at least a dozen years or so raise the thing.” He sighed. “That must mean the plot goes all the way to Darjazen’s throne.” He scowled. “Although we’d have the Dark One’s good time proving it.”

  “I don’t have any proof of a connection.” Dax frowned. “Lady Aylssandra is aware I am dragon-bound, so she will be on guard if I question her again.”

  Rudale had been tracing patterns in the dirt with a stick, and now he looked up. “You’ve still got that one?”
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  “I’ve got her stashed in the deepest dungeon they have, and I have not mentioned her again to the queen.”

  “Heard the queen wanted to skin her.” A smile slowly spread across Rudale’s face. “Going to let her?”

  Dax shook his head. “I would rather have a chance to question her more closely.”

  “Think she would tell you anything?”

  He shrugged. “Not anything that would prove a deeper plot. All I know is the pieces fit.”

  “Renshau?”

  “I’ve been keeping him informed by messenger dragu. Treyhorn went back to tell him what she knew. By now they may have more information about the trading voyages to the Dragon Lands.” Dax shook his head. “I would like to talk to them soon. Maybe they’ll have heard other news or be able to give me some new ideas.”

  “It would be better to have something other than suspicions to lay before the Grand Conclave,” Rudale said archly.

  Kahshect’s thought interrupted. “Birworeth says Rudale just told him to plan to stay in the area for a while.”

  Dax relaxed a little. Rudale could be abrasive, but having another of the dragon-bound in the area meant Dax could deal with the immediate problems in Frohliem City while someone else kept an eye on the larger problem of preventing a war with dragonkind. Dax said, “Right now I am up to my neck trying to keep Frohliem City and the rest of East Landly from falling apart.” He shifted in his seat to ease the ache in his ribs. “I would appreciate any help you can give me in putting the larger pieces of this puzzle together. If Tharans are stealing dragons’ eggs, how many have they stolen?”

  “Adding dragons’ eggs to the mix will make an even bigger mess.” Rudale stood up and tossed the stick away. “I suppose someone has to take a look at this anthill you’ve knocked over before Bindle and Nale get here.” Rudale sounded put out with the situation, but Dax was unsure at which party, himself or the Tharans, the man’s pique was directed. He did not let it worry him.

  #

  As the days went by, Dax worked longer periods with fewer naps. The doctor poked and prodded him every day. Two weeks later, for the first time, he did not flinch when she pressed against his left chest. “That’s not as tender, is it?” she asked.

  “It still hurts.” Dax admitted.

  “And it should.” She smiled. “But I’m pleased with how well you are coming along.”

  Dax sighed. “I wish I could keep up with all there is to do.”

  “Don’t we all.” She waited until he looked at her, then nodded primly. “Just you make sure you don’t overdo. Yes, you are getting better, but be careful you don’t try to do too much too quickly.” She left after shaking her finger at him as if he were a recalcitrant child.

  “Yes, you,” Kahshect added. “If I have to listen to her, you must too.”

  “Fair enough,” Dax replied. He intended to be careful. The fiery pain in his left arm had abated, but the skin was still tender. He rested the arm in a sling to remind himself not to use it unnecessarily. The rest of his body sported blotches of dark bruises, but the edges of the smaller ones had started to turn the decorative colors of healing. His muscles ached abominably, and he moved like a doddering old man.

  Dax had regular working sessions with the queen over supper. She always fussed over his injuries and wanted to know what the doctor had said. He found the attention embarrassing and struggled with his dragon-bound restrictions against falsehood to deflect as much of her personal concern as he could. The queen quizzed Dax, but he noticed she looked tired and drawn herself. Dax was not the only one working long hours to keep Frohliem City on an even keel.

  One evening Dax laid out an idea for a court of common justice to her. He had been thinking of how to make the kingdom’s recovery process more manageable. The time demands of handing down judgments and settlements of damage would become acute as people tried to get their lives back in order. He told her, “Neither you nor I have the time needed to work our way through all the claims and disputes that the people of the city and relatives of the lancers will bring.”

  She sighed wearily. “You are right, of course, but the kingdom has always relied on the king’s justice.”

  “And it still will.” Dax thought for a time to make sure he had the argument ordered the way he wanted to present it. “At Iron Moor there were over a thousand young boys and girls. As you might imagine, from time to time there were disagreements.”

  Queen Layna smiled at the heavy irony in his tone. He smiled in return. “They had a cadet justice system. If you had a complaint against another cadet, as long as it didn’t involve bodily harm or any of the academy’s SO rules . . .” He stopped. “That would be special order rules—something serious needing the commandant’s attention . . .”

  She nodded. “I think I know what you are getting at. The cadet justice system sorted out the minor issues. Only the bigger problems had to be taken to the commandant.”

  “Exactly. They wanted the cadets to come to terms on a settlement. If the two sides couldn’t agree, it would go to the commandant.” He smiled. “Commandant Renshau made sure both sides were aware of his ‘displeasure’ at being drawn into their argument.”

  “Sounds like the rufract.”

  “The Ugori use a form of this system, yes,” he agreed.

  “Already there are so many claims and counterclaims.” She shook her head. “It may help us sort problems out more quickly and give us time to deal with the cases that are truly important.”

  “I didn’t want to start anything internally with the lancers before I checked with you.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said. “I think we should start small so we can see how the process works for the people before we make this a big push.”

  He smiled. “I agree. I have no urge to embarrass myself or you.”

  “No matter how entertaining it may be for some of us.”

  Dax chuckled, and Queen Layna looked at him quizzically. “Kahshect.” He nodded in the direction he sensed the dragon. “He finds all forms of human embarrassment entertaining.”

  The queen had met Kahshect the day before when she had given the dragon a copy of the seal of the city and proclaimed him a citizen of Frohliem City. Kahshect, for his part, had followed all the protocols for an audience at court, including ritualistic bows and gestures adapted for dragon physiology. Afterward Kahshect had been quite pleased with himself and had worn the seal as a medallion around his neck until he tired of it thumping against his chest. Dax promised to look after it for him until they decided on a place to display it.

  Now the queen nodded in understanding. “He likes to listen in on private meetings, does he?”

  “It’s the way we are. You get the two of us. Together.” Dax shrugged. “He even offers very good advice—once you get used to the snide comments that go along with it.”

  She nodded. “I admit it is a very effective combination.” Kahshect offered no further thoughts, but Dax felt his satisfaction through the bond.

  The queen, however, had other thoughts of her own to share. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave more of the recovery work in your hands,” she said. “I’m going to be drawn more deeply into the question of succession every day that passes.”

  Now that King Kankasi was dead, a new ruler had to be found. However, Prince Ruprek and most others in the natural line of succession were dead as well. This was a problem that rested with the queen, and Dax was happy to leave it with her. He asked, “How long will you rule as queen?”

  “As long as needs be until a successor can be found. But it won’t be forever. Piveth of House Demothis has already made that clear. He wants to call the Assembly of Nobles together as soon as possible.”

  “Do you still have an Assembly of Nobles to call?”

  The queen shifted in her chair and sighed tiredly. “The Tharans slaughtered the heart of our nobility out on the plains of the Chammanie Valley.” Her eyes were distant, and she said nothing more for a time. Dax kne
w she must be thinking of her husband and son still lying on the dragon’s killing field.

  She met his eyes again. “I think restoring a functional ruling council for my regency should be the first job. Stability first, succession second.” She drummed her fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair. “However, instead of using the Council of Nobles as a ruling council, Piveth wants what remains of the council to call the full assembly and name a successor as soon as possible.”

  “I’m assuming it would be to his benefit?”

  “House Demothis is a merchant house, and only a few of Piveth’s relatives were in the lancers. Therefore, he still has friends on council. If his idea goes through, what we patch together of the assembly could name Piveth as next in line for the throne.” She looked distracted and muttered, “But they would have to give him a title first . . .” She scowled and shook her head. She focused back on Dax and said, “I fear a number of our wealthy merchants have the same ambitions. Unfortunately, I see them ruling to the advantage of their own house with little thought to the rest of East Landly.”

  She looked up. “But I still have time. Too many have died. For now, most of the members agree with me that first we have to sort out the question of who sits on council. At the moment Piveth faces opposition from many of the other houses . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she sighed. “This is a mess. A royal mess for sure, and one that could get ugly.”

  Dax nodded. He did not know East Landly’s nobility in detail, but the queen’s statement was honest. Dax had no doubts about her insight into the situation. “So what will happen?” he asked.

  She smiled. “I know they will never consider me for the throne. Half Ugori and a female? Ha! However, as reigning monarch, I am in charge of the process.” She nodded to herself. “I can keep them from rushing to a conclusion. I run the meetings, I call the votes, and I will call the vote only when we have remade the council.”