As Dragons from Sleep (The Tahaerin Chronicles Book 2)

by J. Ellen Ross

  His father’s men, of course, refused to accompany them. Andrzej’s orders kept them firmly on this side of the river and out of Tahaerin lands. Lukas’s men looked uncomfortable when he asked for their opinions on taking Leisha to the Deojrin.

  “Sire,” Miklos spoke first, wanting to cut this idea off before it grew legs and got away from him. He had been with the prince since his return from Tahaerin and knew how impulsive, how easily influenced, Lukas could be. “The best choice is to just kill her and be done with it. If their party was delayed, or spotted and killed, then who knows how long it will be before they send another. We can keep some proof she’s dead and bargain when they do show up.”

  Lorant frowned, looking annoyed. “No,” he sneered. “That’s the best choice for you, boy, not for me. You’re betting an awful lot on them believing us. Need I remind you, my lands hang in the balance?”

  The stress of this whole affair brought out the worst in Lorant, Lukas thought.

  Miklos bowed deeply, hiding his annoyance. No one liked the Tahaerin noble. Ever since arriving, fleeing as the Deojrin advanced on his castle, he acted as if everyone here owed him something. “I’m only concerned with yours and the prince’s safety, my lord.”

  “Could it be done, then?” Lorant snapped.

  “Certainly it could be done, my lord. But safely? It all hangs on whether or not we can slip out undetected and stay out of their sights.” He turned to Lukas, pleading with him to listen. “The Tahaerins are undoubtedly out there, Sire. They’re watching every road, every crossing, and certainly they’ve found this keep.”

  Lukas shook his head, tired of rehashing this discussion. “You keep saying that, but you bring me no evidence. So far, all I’ve heard are your suspicions. You’ve said so yourself, your men haven’t found any sign of them.”

  “Sire,” Marton spoke this time, incredulous. “This is their queen, and she employs two Ostravan spies. She’s married to one. They are out there.”

  Miklos knew better. The Tahaerin weasel wanted this to happen, and Lukas would go along to please his friend. “Are you set on this course, Sire?”

  Resigned, the prince said, “I don’t see any other choice. We’ll run out of the flowers in another two weeks. Then we’ll have no choice but to kill her. If we try and take her to them and we’re found, we can always bargain with her life.”

  Sighing, Miklos closed his eyes. His prince, while not a stupid man, rarely exercised a great deal of forethought. He rushed headlong into life, imagining everything would work itself out in his favor. And, for some reason no one could understand, he allowed himself to be led by Lorant, following the Tahaerin noble like a puppy on a rope.

  When Lukas first broached the subject of working with the Deojrin, Miklos counseled against it, aghast at the idea. He saw what they intended—turning the Ilaytan kings against each other so there could be no united front. The kingdoms would fall, one after another, as the monarchs scrambled to betray each other and gain some advantage. But Lukas, of course, could not see past the end of his own nose. The Deojrin said Lorant could have his lands back in exchange for the Tahaerin queen he used to bed, and that sealed it.

  “I’ll put something together, sir,” Miklos said. “Small party, move as fast as possible, that sort of thing.” He saw his death looming before him. The Tahaerins would find them. They were certainly out there, but no one wanted to believe it since they had yet to find any traces of them except for the scout who went missing two weeks ago. “Let me think about it.”

  Pleased now, Lukas turned to his friend. “Maybe you should stay here, Lorant. Someone needs to stay behind and maintain some order.”

  “Nonsense,” Lorant said, waving his hand through the air. “It sounds like a grand adventure— sneaking around to help a man wronged. Very clandestine. I won’t have either of us miss it.”

  Miklos’s heart sang, and he saw salvation. His children might not grow up fatherless. “Sire, I can stay back and manage things here if you both believe it’s best for you to go. I’ll send the best we have.”

  ***

  On the seventh day they spent in the woods, soon after lunch, Eli rushed into camp. “There’s lots of noise in the yard, lots of horses moving around in there. I think something’s happening.”

  Aniska called them all together. “Irion, ride around and watch the main gate. Let’s see what happens. The rest of us will move to where we can watch the side gate.” All along, she thought the smaller western gate made a more likely exit point. The land south of the keep was clear of cover for two miles, but the road leaving the side gate ran west into the tree line within a few hundred yards. The forest provided a good deal of shelter from prying eyes.

  Two tense hours passed before Irion suddenly returned, his horse breathing hard. “Riders and large carriage came out the main gate. They’re on the road heading south.”

  “Fuck,” Aniska cursed, trying to remember the map while figuring out how and where to intercept them. “How many riders?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Fuck,” she swore again. Looking at the group, she asked, “Do we think this is it? A carriage would be easier to move her in.”

  “No,” Zaraki said, shaking his head. “It’s a decoy. The nearest crossing that can take a carriage is going to be at Parzec, two days away. They would land in the middle of a good-sized town. It would be so obvious.”

  “Are you sure?” Eamon looked doubtful.

  “I spent six years all over this kingdom. There’s no other crossing of any size between here and Parzec. They’re trying to draw us out.” Zaraki felt sure of his answer, but still, to be this close and to think she might be in that coach. He hoped he would not regret this.

  Satisfied, Ani said, “All right, then, we wait.” No one appeared happy with this development, but no one raised any objections either.

  The afternoon passed as everyone grew restless and churlish, snapping at each other, cursing and generally being miserable. Ani understood. The wait pushed them all to their limits as they wondered how far the carriage had traveled away from them. That night, everyone at camp looked grim, convinced they had missed their chance.

  However, late the next morning the scene repeated itself with Eamon reporting a commotion within the walls. This time, they watched the side gate open and Aniska counted six pairs of riders emerging. More than she hoped for, but her plan could accommodate them all. Given the group with the carriage, one must be a decoy and she hoped they had chosen well.

  Letting out a tense, pent-up breath, Ani said, “All right, everyone. I think this is it. I count twelve riders.”

  “Thirteen,” Eamon corrected.

  She counted the horses again. “I only see twelve.”

  “In the middle.” Eamon pointed. “The big black horse. He’s carrying two.”

  How the hell could he tell? Another moment and she could just make out the pair, on what might be Capar. At this distance, she could not be sure any of them was Leisha, but the double rider in front was considerably smaller than the other. Zaraki had seen it, too. She heard his sharp intake of breath and the sound of his gloved hands clenching into fists.

  Ani looked at her little raiding party and all her doubts fell away. “Everyone knows their parts, right? Jan, you make the final call when they ride past. Remember everyone, stick to the plan. If we go and we don’t get her back, drive them towards the river. The best chance will be one of our patrols picking them up. If this is a decoy, we know she’s likely in the carriage. We’ll follow and figure it out as we go. Now, everyone back up the road and find your places.”

  Jan and Eamon took their horses into the woods. They would wait just before a bend in the road that would take the Embriel men out of sight of the keep. Irion and Eli rushed to take their mounts across to the other side of the road, disappearing into the trees.

  From their saddles, she and Zaraki both spanned their crossbows, pulling back the string until the locking mechanisms caught. Then they turned their
horses and moved beyond the bend in the road, putting space between them and the riders. Zaraki shifted in his saddle, chafing at the wait. He wanted to charge his horse in, now. He had to know if he had made a mistake.

  “Soon, friend,” Ani said low, under her breath, trying to sound calm over her thundering heart. “We’ll know soon.”

  ***

  After finding the curve in the road, Jan and Eamon hid their horses deep in the trees. Jan dismounted and crept as near to the road as the underbrush allowed and waited for the riders to pass him. All along, he had known the decision to fight would be his to make. If he saw Leisha, they would go without question. If she was not in the party, but Lukas was, Jan would decide based on the soldiers and the likelihood they could capture the prince alive. Then they could parlay with his people for Leisha’s release. Even Lorant could be useful if taken, given Lukas treated him as family. But Jan would not risk a confrontation for just Lorant.

  The men from Embriel moved cautiously down the road towards them. Three pairs of armed men rode in front of two well-dressed nobles. Behind them rode two more pairs of soldiers. Jan’s mind whirled with possibilities. The two nobles would not risk their lives on something so foolish, or maybe they would not entrust their precious package to anyone but themselves.

  As the first riders passed him, Jan could see they wore only light armor and rode horses built for speed. Their party would need to move quickly across the river and the southern Tymek prairie, if that was their plan. Jan thought it boded well for the rescue party.

  He bit back a silent curse though, as Lukas and Lorant drew closer. Dressed in fine clothes inappropriate for traveling across country, it knocked the wind from him, dashing his hopes Leisha lay under the cloak. Surely, these two would not dress up for a mad dash across the Tymek.

  Then Lukas shifted the figure in his arms, searching for a more comfortable position. The hood fell back a fraction of an inch and Jan’s sharp eyes caught sight of sleek black hair peeking out. As the prince hefted the limp body, a small, fine-boned hand fell to one side.

  Jan waited for Lukas and his escort to move past and disappear around the bend before creeping silently back to Eamon and the horses, grinning madly and giving his silent signal. He had not killed anyone in a long while. Playing bodyguard made his wife happy and kept him home with the children. But today, he looked forward to a chance to relive the early days working for Zaraki.

  He and Eamon urged their mounts onto the road.

  ***

  After waiting for what felt like an eternity, Zaraki heard faint sounds from the road and saw the first riders approaching. Behind them came another pair and then he made out Lukas. Even from this distance, he knew the prince who sat on the back of a lovely black Auleron. Capar. Zaraki felt a rush of relief seeing his friend, knowing he would save him. Anger followed. That arrogant, spoiled little shit rode his horse. He thought he would kill Lukas just for that, but at least his great black friend had not been sent to the army.

  As they drew closer, he could see the cloaked figure in Lukas’s arms appeared to be asleep, or unconscious. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked tightly under his breath.

  “If that’s her, and not just a lure,” Aniska cautioned in a whisper, “they’ve likely drugged her. Makes sense if you don’t want her thinking everyone to death.”

  Zaraki tried to still his pounding heart, but the wait was excruciating, now that he could see the riders. He strained forward waiting for Jan’s call, desperately trying to make out the cloaked figure in Lukas’s arms.

  So much could go wrong still.

  From up the road, Aniska heard Jan’s whistle and felt a surge of adrenaline that made her blood sing. She would get to kill someone today, and if the gods cared at all about her, Lukas would cross her path. The others might not blame her for what happened, but Ani wanted to prove herself all over again. Today, she wanted revenge and redemption.

  In the distance, she heard the first arrow fly from behind the riders, followed by a second. Jan grew up hunting the woods around Stesha and could hit a target from a respectable distance. The moment the remaining riders noticed their fallen friends and turned their heads to the rear, Aniska gave her whistle. She heard two more bowstrings from the other side of the road—Eli and Irion. Lukas’s men realized they had ridden into an ambush and shouted for the party to ride on.

  “Now,” Ani said, and kicked her horse into motion.

  As soon as they emerged from their cover, the riders in front drew up. Aniska and Zaraki loosed their quarrels and managed to each hit their target. Cezar never bothered training them in bows, and they were both awful shots, but crossbows required very little skill to aim and fire. Ani’s quarrel took one man in the stomach and he fell, clutching at his gut wound. Zaraki’s lodged in the shoulder of the other lead rider and the man tumbled back off his mount. As the horses charged forward, he tried to scramble to his feet and out of the way. But Zaraki swung his crossbow down in an arc and bludgeoned the injured rider to the ground as he rode past.

  As she cast her crossbow aside, Aniska counted six single riders now and the two nobles. Decent odds, but the Embriel riders had not divided themselves as she hoped they would. In their planning, she expected more soldiers to group around whoever or whatever carried Leisha. Instead, she and Zaraki had four riders to deal with while Irion, Jan and Eamon in the back had only two, plus the nobles.

  Zaraki saw they were outnumbered and tried to remember Irion’s lessons. The boy had warned them several times not to charge about on their mounts and that fighting on horseback did not happen quickly. Their animals provided an advantage over those on foot, but they would not be rushing back and forth at their opponents. Instead, combat on horseback consisted largely of trying to position the animals to allow the riders to get close enough to stab and grapple with one another.

  With Ani behind him, Zaraki chose his next target, a large rider on a big chestnut gelding. The soldier raised his sword arm to strike an easy blow and Zaraki jerked out of the way, nearly unseating himself in the process. He thrust his sword hand up, ramming it into the soldier’s elbow and preventing the blow from landing. Passing on the other side, Ani stabbed, catching the rider in the shoulder as he struggled to right himself in his saddle. Because of her speed and awkward angle, her sword did not penetrate deeply, and the other man managed to stay astride.

  The movement of the horses and slower timing disrupted the natural flow of combat. Both Ostravans struggled to adjust and too late, Zaraki saw his mistake.

  Three riders lay behind him now and they had recovered from the surprise and urged their mount forward. Zaraki scrambled to wheel his horse to face them, frantic as he struggled with the reins and tried to remember Irion’s lessons. He saw the sword coming towards his head, and finally instinct took over. Reaching out, he grabbed the blade above the hilt with one hand, thankful for Irion’s insistence they wear mail gloves. It saved him, but the other rider had momentum on his side. Zaraki felt himself dragged from his saddle as his opponent grabbed a handful of his coat.

  Ani saw Zaraki fall and turned her mount, hoping to drive the horse between her friend and the other rider. That mistake cost her as the injured rider to her left swung and drew a blade across her upper arm. Not deep enough to stop, but deep enough to hurt.

  Furious at herself for such carelessness, she struck out with her offhand, pushing his second swing aside and smashing the pommel of her own blade into the man’s face. Howling in pain as blood gushed from his nose and mouth, he fell when she shouldered into him.

  On the ground, Zaraki rolled to his feet, sword still in hand. This at least felt comfortable and familiar. He dodged to the rider’s left, putting the horse’s head between them. From this angle, it made it impossible for the soldier to thrust or swing cleanly and forced him to bring his sword arm over the animal’s neck.

  Mistake, Zaraki thought. On the ground, he could move faster. Ducking under the horse’s head, he thrust his rapier up and cau
ght the rider in the stomach. The man clutched at his wound as blood pooled in his hands. As he slumped forward, he kicked Zaraki hard in the shoulder and then fell from his mount. Zaraki felt fire in his left arm and relief that he was right handed.

  ***

  Irion emerged from the trees on Aniska’s signal, heading straight for the rider in front of Lukas, to keep the prince from riding forward. Surprised, his target scrambled to draw his weapon fully. Out of time, the other man grabbed his sword by the grip and blade to shield himself. Irion’s own sword flashed down, striking his opponent’s and bouncing off harmlessly. But all the time spent in the yard training paid off as the poniard in his offhand slid easily under the man’s raised arm and up into his shoulder. The Embriel soldier dropped his sword, clutching at his wound, and Irion stabbed him through.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lorant turn his horse and bolt into the woods.

  If the lordling raised the alarm at the keep, they were dead. “Eli!” Irion shouted. From his hiding place in the trees, Eli’s horse burst across the road, racing after Lorant.

  Irion forced himself not to give chase as well. They all had their parts to play. He glanced at the riders on either side of the foreign prince. They looked like a challenge. From behind, he saw Eamon and Jan approaching, corralling Lukas and his guards, pushing them forward, shouting threats and orders at the Embriel men.

  ***

  Finding himself alone, the last mounted soldier panicked. He turned and tried to make for the safety of the trees, abandoning his prince. Zaraki stood in his way, blocking his escape and waving his arms. It spooked the horse and the animal balked, refusing to run him down.

  The soldier wheeled his frightened mount, attempting to flee in the opposite direction, but Aniska guessed his intent. Smaller and lighter than nearly any opponent she ever faced, she knew how to use weight and momentum with deadly consequences. As the rider passed by, she reached under his right arm and struck upward with the heel of her hand. She caught him under his chin and levered him off his horse.