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

by William Culbertson

“This kingdom would do well with you on the throne.”

  The queen patted his arm. “Now aren’t you a good boy for saying that.” They both chuckled at her patronizing display. “I, of course, agree with you, but to rule as queen, I would need confirmation from the assembly. I can’t get that, and I never will.”

  She stood up to go. “These are my problems. I will do what I can to see that East Landly is given the best possible ruler. Meanwhile, your job is to put the kingdom back together so there will be something to rule.”

  #

  After his dinner meeting with the queen, Dax retreated to the suite of rooms he had been using as his headquarters and stretched out on his couch, trying to get comfortable. He was working his way through another list of supply requisitions when there was a tap on the door.

  “Yes?” he said, puzzled. No one was supposed to be working this evening, but he was not surprised when Achelis stuck his head in the door.

  “Excuse me, sir, but the lady requested to see you. She’s with the Ugori.”

  “They’re back then? Excellent.” He broke off as Pulchra stepped through the door. There were tears in her eyes. Something was wrong.

  “Pulchra, what is it? Is it Markadamous?”

  She shook her head no and at his gesture took a seat on the low couch across from where he was working. He waited for her to compose herself. Finally she said softly, “We lost Pulla.”

  “Pulla!” Dax echoed and pictured the vivacious young girl in his mind. He was stunned. “How?” he finally asked.

  She shook her head, unable to reply. Dax clumsily got off the couch and hugged her with one arm while she wept. Finally she pulled back and wiped her eyes. Composed now, she said, “Markadamous will be here after he sees to the camp, but I thought you should know sooner.”

  “Scarlet. How is he doing?”

  “He lives, but he has not spoken for days.”

  Pulchra was obviously upset, and Dax decided not to press her for any more details. That would come soon enough. He gave her another hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Give my love to Markadamous.” She nodded and took her leave.

  After Pulchra left, Dax was unable to concentrate on the mounds of paperwork stacked beside the couch. He called Captain Achelis in and told him he would have to mind the office for a while. He set off for the north tower of the castle with Onam. He had found the place in the days before the battle with Tharans, but he had not been there since. Other towers of the palace complex were taller, but this one had a commanding view to the north over the bulk of the city. Onam helped him with the stairs, but it took a fair amount of time to climb to the small room. Dax sat down in a chair in the sparsely furnished room and looked out the window. There was still light in the sky, but the city had faded into abstract blocks of gray.

  The view calmed him, and it helped him think. He could feel Kahshect, but the dragon was off with Birworeth. He was not near enough to talk. Birworeth had been flying regular patrols to keep track of the remnant of the Tharan army making its way back to their boats waiting near shore at the mouth of the Chammanie River. Dax stared out over Frohliem City, but his gaze fixed on the distant, dusty horizon. Blood and pain. That was his life. Scarlet had lost a love, and Dax hurt in sympathy for his friend. In Pulla, Scarlet had found love, only to lose it in a brutal fashion. Dax’s sorrow was particularly acute. Scarlet had lost his love in a battle that Dax had planned. War was cruel and uncertain at the best, but Dax bore some responsibility for his friend’s loss.

  Time passed, but Dax took no notice. He reflected on how his life had brought him to this tower and how much of that life he had lived and worked with Scarlet. He also thought of love and how little of it he had known in his own life. Finally he sighed. He looked around at the dark of the tower room and decided to return to his office. He should be thinking about the lancers, Frohliem City, and what he needed to do tomorrow.

  Onam had a candle, and Achelis met them with a small lantern on their way back. Dax did not retreat to his bed until much later.

  #

  Markadamous came to see him the next morning, his usual ebullience subdued. “Aye, that was a bloody business all the way along,” he said as he thumped down on the couch where his wife had sat the night before. “Pulchra said she gave you the news about Pulla.”

  Dax nodded. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  Markadamous’s eyes clouded over, and it was a minute before he spoke again. “Two other younger girls we have, but Pulla was special.”

  “I know.” Dax had met Markadamous’s whole family, but Pulla had been the one who seemed to have inherited her father’s zest for life.

  “We’re going to miss that one, as will your friend Scarlet.”

  Dax thought for a moment. “Tell me, how is he doing?”

  “As well as anyone does when he loses the love of his life.” Markadamous did not say anything for a time. Finally he looked up and cleared his throat. “I’ve never seen anything like how that young man can fight.”

  “He’s good with a sword.”

  “Oh, no doubt.” Markadamous nodded. “We seen that right enough when we was fightin’ the bastards. But after Pulla . . .” He stopped to pull himself together. “After Pulla was killed, the man went bloody crazy. He was the Reaper himself.”

  Markadamous wiped his eyes. “The man left a pile of bodies like I’d never seen before. Never. At one point he took the sword from a man he’d just killed and went after two at once. Never saw a man fight two men at once.

  “Finally, it got to where none of the Tharans would even get close to him. He chased them, screamed at them, but their force had already broken off the fight. They were just trying to get away. Poor Scarlet. I think he wanted to keep on fighting until somebody killed him like they did poor . . .” Markadamous could not say his daughter’s name. He just sat with his head down, and Dax saw his shoulders shake with emotion.

  #

  That afternoon Dax met with Scarlet. At first he was reluctant to see his friend while the man’s grief was still so raw. After he thought about how he would feel in similar circumstances, Dax decided he needed to see Scarlet no matter how uncomfortable it made him. All he had to offer his friend was his presence, but he would offer it.

  Scarlet looked terrible when Pulchra escorted him into Dax’s room. Pulchra had told Dax that Scarlet had not been eating, and the man was drawn and wan. At least he looked presentable in a fresh tunic and leggings. Pulchra had told him that Scarlet had worn the same uniform coat he had fought in for days, refusing to change to fresh clothes. Dax saw she had gotten him to clean up for this meeting.

  Pulchra nodded and turned to withdraw. Scarlet noticed and turned to her. Dax heard him mumble his thanks, and Pulchra gave him a hug as she went out. Once they were alone, the silence was awkward. Dax did not know what to say, so he offered Scarlet a drink of Newham wine Achelis had found. Dax poured two glasses and handed one to his friend. Unsure about what to say, Dax just said, “To Pulla.”

  They clinked glasses and took a sip. Scarlet set his glass down, and Dax saw tears flowing down his cheeks. Awkwardly, Dax stepped forward and embraced his friend. Scarlet hugged him back fiercely for a moment, then broke the clinch. Dax winced from the pressure on his still-healing arm and ribs, but he said nothing. Scarlet gave Dax a pat on the arm, his good arm, and picked up his drink again.

  “Thank you for that,” Scarlet said thickly, and took another sip of the wine. He blinked his eyes several times and gave a sigh as if he was putting down a burden. He took another sip and looked at Dax. For the first time that evening, Dax saw his old friend looking back at him.

  Scarlet gazed down at the wine and offered a tight smile. “This is good. Achelis must have picked it out since you know just this side of nothing about fine wines.”

  Dax relaxed a little and smiled in return. He gestured to the chairs on either side of the fireplace where Onam had built a fire earlier to keep the evening chill away. “I know I can’t say
anything helpful, but I wouldn’t want to be alone.” He levered himself awkwardly into a chair and tried to get comfortable as Scarlet seated himself.

  Dax could think of nothing more to say, and for a long time, neither man said anything. They just sat and watched the fire burn. Dax finally got up and added a couple more pieces of wood to the fire.

  “We were going to marry,” Scarlet said when Dax sat back down. He was on his third glass of wine while Dax still nursed his first.

  Dax nodded. “I was certain of that.”

  “She took a spear meant for me.”

  Dax decided to let Scarlet tell it his own way. Nothing he could say would ease the man’s hurt.

  Several more minutes went by before Scarlet said, “She understood me right from the start.” He took a sip of wine. “About women, I mean.”

  “Women?” Dax was inwardly pleased that the wine seemed to be making Scarlet willing to talk.

  “She knew I liked the ladies from the first time we talked. She kidded me about flirting with every lassie in the camp.”

  Scarlet paused to fill his glass again. “My compliments to Achelis. This really is good.” He settled back in his chair. His eyes were troubled as he continued to talk about Pulla. “We talked for a long time before she let me even touch her. She made me realize a lot about myself.” He paused as if to gather his thoughts. “I told her about growing up at Orrysa’s, and once she asked me straight out if I’d had any bad experiences.”

  “Bad experiences?” Dax thought he knew what Pulla had been asking, but he wanted to encourage Scarlet to go on.

  “Bad like if anyone ever . . .” Scarlet waved a hand in self-conscious mortification. “You know. Tried to mess with me.”

  Dax could tell this was a difficult topic for Scarlet, and he just nodded. He was sure where this was heading. He thought of Weasel, the man who had tried to molest him while he had worked for the bootblacks in Tazzelton many years ago. Dax’s dragon anger stirred at the memory. “I know what you mean.” His thoughts were grim.

  Scarlet looked at him intently for a time. “I haven’t told anyone else about this. Except Pulla, I mean.”

  Dax knew Scarlet was about to share something intensely personal. The tale unwound in just about the way Dax had expected. The year after Dax had left for Iron Moor, one of Orrysa’s customers had molested Scarlet—several times.

  “Did you tell anyone?” Dax asked.

  “No. I took care of it myself,” Scarlet said cryptically.

  When he said nothing more, Dax asked, “Took care of it how?”

  “Knifed the bastard in the belly when he took me down to the river where he always took me to . . . you know.”

  “You killed him?”

  Scarlet smiled grimly. “My first. Just let the river take him away.” He sighed and shook his head. “Pulla told me she thought my flirting with all the ladies might come from him messing with me.” Scarlet looked at Dax. His eyes were bleak for a moment, but suddenly Scarlet smiled. His old friend was back. “Or it might be I just like the ladies.” Scarlet’s eyes were moist with emotion, but he no longer looked as haunted as he had.

  Dax picked up the wine bottle. There were a couple of swallows left, and he poured them in his glass. “With that story, I’m going to risk a headache.” He nodded to Scarlet and took a sip.

  The two friends sat in silence for a while. Dax judged that Scarlet was thinking about Pulla, so he was surprised when his friend broke the silence. “What about you?” he asked.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I’ve just told you a deep, dark secret that I’ve never told anyone else. What about you?” Scarlet shifted in the chair and gave Dax a challenging look with a half smile. “I’ve known you for a long time, but you’ve never said a word about why you came to Iron Moor. Family spat? Crime? Lost in the woods?” Scarlet stretched out his legs to get more comfortable and set his empty glass down. “So?” He leaned back and arched his eyebrows in expectation.

  Dax had not expected this. If any other person had asked at any other time, he would have found a way to avoid the issue. Distractions and misdirections were hard when someone asked a direct question, but this was not just anyone. This was Scarlet, a man he had known and loved for years. They had fought battles side by side. They were brothers in blood. And in pain.

  Dax sighed, and Scarlet leaned forward. “Maybe I’m being too personal, Dax, but I know what it’s like to hold in a secret. It might make you feel better if you trust me.”

  “Oh, I trust you well enough.” Once Dax said it, he realized how true it was. “However, it’s not just my secret alone.” He tried to think how to say it. “Many people, even now, could be . . . would be hurt if this gets out.”

  Scarlet frowned. “A big family problem then?”

  “The biggest.” Dax almost laughed. He had kept the secret so long he had trouble even thinking about how to say it. “West Landly . . . ,” he began and stopped.

  “Yes, I know you’re from West Landly,” Scarlet said impatiently.

  “No, I am West Landly.” He hesitated, and Scarlet looked puzzled. “I mean, I was.” Dax scratched his head and finally said, “I mean I . . .” He found it hard to say the words.

  Scarlet’s eyes got big, and he finished for Dax in a whisper, “The lost boy king of West Landly?”

  Dax nodded in reply. “Yes.”

  Scarlet sat quietly for a long time before he finally said, “Well, that explains a lot. I knew you were something special right from the first.” He shook his head. “From anyone else, I’d never believe it. But you. You’re dragon-bound. When you say something is true, it’s true.”

  Neither of them said anything for a long time. Dax had nothing else to say, and Scarlet seemed to be thinking. Finally Scarlet met his eyes. “You were right to keep that secret all these years. The Goddess herself knows what kind of a mess that would create even now.” He paused for moment and gave a low whistle. “Nope. Not a word of this to anyone. Makes me shiver a bit just to think of it.”

  “I didn’t really want to burden you with my problems right after you lost Pulla.”

  Scarlet’s eyes went distant again. “I don’t know how I can live my life without her in it.” He was quiet for a long time. Eventually he cleared his throat. “Is the loss of a kingdom a lighter weight after all these years?”

  “The loss of the kingdom?” How did he feel about that? “No,” he finally said, “I don’t think about it as much as I did at first. However, losing my father and the rest of my family to . . .” Although he no longer thought of Mathilde’s treachery every day, the memory brought another flush of dragon anger through him. “I still miss my family and my home,” he finished lamely.

  “I’ll never forget her,” Scarlet said morosely.

  “And you shouldn’t.”

  “I just don’t see how I can go on without her. How did you do it?”

  Dax sighed. “I didn’t do anything. I was busy trying to stay alive.”

  “Then I guess that’s what I’ll do.” Scarlet nodded. “I’ll just try to stay alive.”

  He tapped his empty glass and got to his feet. He clasped Dax’s arm. “Thank you for listening. Good night.”

  After Scarlet left, the room was silent. Remnants of memories chased through Dax’s head as he watched the fire burn lower and lower. Echoes of the loneliness he had experienced those first days after he had fled the castle in Tazzelton reverberated in his head. Dax felt a tendril of concern from Kahshect. He sighed. Pushing himself to his feet, he headed for his bedroom. Reassured to know he was not alone, he knew he could sleep.

  Chapter 22

  Berndet Avia held tightly to the hand of her daughter, Meva, as they worked their way toward the temporary stage just outside the west wall of the palace. The Blue Plaza was not as full as she expected for a victory celebration over the Tharans. Of course it was not just an observation of victory, but a memorial as well. The queen had proclaimed a day of remembrance of th
e fallen and celebration for the saving of the city.

  Undoubtedly too many people were busy trying to figure out how they were going to live their lives to come to the gathering. Berndet had many tasks to do today, but she still thought Meva should have a chance to see the ceremony. She had been about Meva’s age when King Kankasi was crowned. Her parents had taken her to see the event, and she had never forgotten.

  Three days ago she had taken Meva out by Magnon’s Gully to see the burning of the dragon. Two other dragons had been there as well. Large beasts, they were, but the dead dragon was huge. Dax, the savior of the city, was there and said a few words. She was surprised that he did not talk about his triumph over the immense creature. Instead, he spoke about the sorry life of the animal and how it had been misused by the Tharans.

  Much of the dragon had been covered by wooden timbers soaked in pitch. The head, uncovered, lay on top. It had gazed out toward the crowd with dead gray eyes. One of the dragons lit the fire. Berndet guessed it was the one who had fought the great dragon, because it had scars on one of its wings. It had taken days to prepare the pyre, and they kept it burning for two full days before the body had been reduced to ash.

  “Mama, look!” Meva called, breaking into Berndet’s thoughts. “There’s Dax, the man who killed the bad dragon,”

  Berndet looked at the stage. A number of people were there, and she spotted the large figure of Gard Daxdendraig seated near the center of the platform. His uniform was similar to that of a lancer’s, but it had different markings. His left arm was still in a sling, but the bruises on his face looked better. “You’re right, honey. That’s Dax the Hero.”

  “Along with his dragon, right?”

  “Of course, dear. They worked together, but the dragon Kahshect”—Berndet stumbled over the name—“couldn’t be here because he hurt his wing.”

  “Dax has scary eyes. I wouldn’t want him to be mad at me.”

  Looking at the man through a child’s eyes, Berndet saw she was right. Scary eyes. But there was more. Sadness? Loss? Maybe haunted was a better term. He certainly did not look like a man who had just won a great victory.