by Nathan Roden
Tanner and Magdalena lowered their hands, and the ships rested against the dock.
“Thank you for your cooperation, My Lords,” Finn said. “Make yourselves at home in the pub. You eat and drink for free in the village of Islemar.”
“Mother! Mother!” Noah called out as he pushed through the crowd.
“Noah!” Robinette ran and threw her arms around her son.
“The children are safe,” Noah said.
“Where did you go?”
“To Morgenwraithe.”
“Noah! What made you think that was a safe place to go?”
A man Robinette had never seen stood next to Noah.
“Those children have little to fear, My Lady.”
Robinette stared at him.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Oliver, My Lady. I was arrested and held in the Morgenwraithe dungeon with the queen. I am free because of Sara.”
Robinette’s eyes grew wide.
“Noah? Is Jaclyn with you?”
“No, Mother. She has escaped the dungeon, but we don’t know where she is.”
Robinette covered her mouth.
“Something strange has happened in the kingdom, Mother,” Noah said. “Sara went back and found Jaclyn’s cell empty, and drops of blood nearby. The blood was Lucien’s.”
The sky grew dark. The wind picked up and light rain fell on the village.
“Look!” Oliver cried out. “A beacon burns atop the mountain!”
“What does it mean?” Robinette asked.
“I don’t know,” Noah said.
Oliver remembered what Lord Lamont had said about the beacon towers.
“I can take a closer look,” he said. “May I borrow a horse?”
“Come with me,” Noah said.
Noah took Oliver to the stables. He took two horses.
“Begging your pardon, My Lord,” Oliver said. “You should stay.”
“I can’t let you go alone. Jaclyn would not be pleased.”
Oliver mounted his horse.
“I cannot speak for the queen. But your mother needs your support.”
Oliver rode through the gate and took the King’s Road to the west. He looked up at the beacon often as the rain increased.
He jerked on the reins when a dark cloud passed over his head. But this cloud had…wings. It had to be the largest dragon the world had ever seen. And the dragons kept coming.
Oliver saw the approach of a familiar face.
“He is impressive, indeed.”
“Lord Lamont! It is good to see you!”
Oliver and Lamont dismounted. Oliver held out his hand. Lamont took it and pulled Oliver into a hug,
“And good to see you, as well!” Lamont said.
“Your son is within your gates, My Lord. He has returned with Sara and Ezekiel.”
“Noah? Noah is here? Is there word about Jaclyn?” Lamont asked.
“She is free from the dungeon, My Lord. We believe she is with King Lucien, but we cannot be certain.”
“What about the child?” Lamont asked quietly.
“I do not know, My Lord.”
Lamont nodded.
Oliver pointed to the mountain.
“The beacon burns atop Mount Islemar. I was on my way to have a look.”
“We have scouts on the way there as we speak,” Lamont said.
“If Simon is indeed there—”
“If he is there, all you can accomplish is getting yourself killed. The time for one man to ride alone is over, my friend. Come with us, into the village.”
Oliver stared up the mountain.
“If anything happens to him, it will break her heart.”
“One more senseless death will not ease her pain, Oliver.”
Oliver hung his head and climbed aboard his horse. He followed Lamont and his men back to the village.
Forty-Seven
Sterling stormed into the castle and headed straight for the throne room. The servants reached for the double doors as Sterling approached.
“The king has not been seen, My Lord,” one said.
“I know that!” Sterling snapped. “Send in whoever is in charge of the King’s Guard and army.”
The servants looked at each other.
“We are not certain of who remains, My—”
Sterling grabbed two handfuls of the man’s coat and threw him against the wall.
“I do not want to hear what you don’t know! I do not want to discuss the kingdom’s chain of command with those who empty chamber pots! Do as I say!”
“Yes. At once, My Lord!”
“Wait!” Sterling called.
The men turned, wringing their hands.
“My testers! And wine!”
“Right away, My Lord.”
Sterling walked into the empty room. He paused by his chair at the end of the table, and then he walked up the steps to the king’s throne. He sat down, still fuming. Sterling drummed his fingers on the arms of the great seat. He looked to his side, at the queen’s throne. Rage boiled up within him.
Sterling jumped to his feet. He grabbed the queen’s throne by the arms and pulled as hard as he could. The chair barely moved. It made a horrible scraping sound, the noise echoing off of the walls and ceiling. Sterling did not quit. He pulled until his breath was gone. He moved behind the throne and pushed with his legs. At long last he put his foot on the throne and pushed it down the stairs.
The tremendous crash continued to reverberate. Sterling was bent over and catching his breath when the servants and testers arrived. He motioned them over with one hand. The boys went through the motions with the wine, keeping a wary eye on Sterling. He stared at them for one minute and then snapped his fingers. A boy poured a clean chalice full, sat it on the table, and scurried away. Sterling picked up the chalice and the wineskin and returned to the king’s throne. He sat, closed his eyes, and emptied the chalice in one swallow.
A servant stepped inside the door and announced three names; two members of the King’s Guard and an army officer. Sterling recognized none of them. The men entered the room, carrying their helmets. They all slowed when they saw Sterling seated on the throne. Sterling poured his chalice full and drank half of it. He stood and walked down the steps.
“You are the senior officers within the gates?”
“Yes, My Lord. I am—”
Sterling dismissed the man with a wave.
“I don’t need your names. I won’t remember them. We need to prepare the castle and the village for attack by rebel forces.”
“What about the new arrivals, My Lord?”
“What new arrivals?”
“The…the men told to report for duty by Captain Raynard, My Lord.”
Sterling rubbed his chin.
“Ah, yes. How many do we have?”
“At last count, My Lord, one hundred and eighty-seven.”
Sterling slammed his hand on the table.
“What? Do the citizens of this kingdom not take my decrees seriously? We are under the threat of traitorous rebellion!”
A different man spoke.
“My Lord, these men report that several villages have been abandoned. Homes, livestock, shops—all empty.”
“How many standing Guard and Army do we have within the gates?”
The men tallied among themselves.
“Thirty-five members of the Guard and one hundred-thirty infantry, My Lord. Plus the new—”
Sterling stomped toward the door.
“Plus less than two hundred almost worthless mouths to feed in exchange for nothing! Let’s go!”
The men followed Sterling past the stables and outside the gates. The raw recruits lounged there in no type of formation at all.
“On your feet!” the army officer barked. The men fell in, in a leisurely fashion.
“Men of Morgenwraithe! This is Lord Sterling Mor—!”
Sterling kept walking.
“We do not have time for protocol. Follow me.�
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Sterling led them a half-mile beyond the castle gates. They walked around numerous pig pens and circled behind them to a row of stables. These stables were closed with heavy chains and locks. Sterling pulled keys from his trousers and opened a set of double doors.
The officers were close enough to see what lay inside—sixteen mobile cannons.
Sterling scowled at the officers.
“Tell me we have people who know how to use these.”
The men nodded, whether from true knowledge or fear, Sterling did not know or care. He wanted to get back to his wine and forget the day had ever existed.
Sterling faced the men.
“Get these cannons out of here and relocated to the training area. I want them cleaned and oiled and in fighting condition within twenty-four hours. And I suggest you pay attention to what you are taught about their operation. They will be the only thing standing between you and twenty-five-hundred pounds of fiery death.”
Three men passed out and fell to the ground. Sterling shook his head. On his way back to the castle, he passed one of the unconscious men and kicked him in the face.
Forty-Eight
Boone and Helena carried their bows in opposite hands. Their other hands were locked tightly together as they walked the scorched earth. Ben walked ahead of them, pointing and steering them away from the charred remains of the dead. No words were spoken.
Overhead, Papa and Sir Edmund led the parade of dragons north in a line. Simon and Caleb took the rear guard, behind Lamont and his company. It took less than an hour for Lamont to find the horses that had escaped from the border camp. There were more than enough for their needs.
Dark clouds rolled in, covering the sky from one horizon to the other. The day became dark and the first rains fell. Thunder echoed off of the forbidden mountain.
Simon was exhausted. The stress had been relentless, and it was by no means over. Their first major encounter with Morgenwraithe’s army was only days away, at best.
It was all finally coming to pass—the time he had only dreamed about for twelve years. Simon squeezed his eyes shut. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind.
He almost wished he could call it all off. Make it all go away.
He had more friends—true friends—than he could have ever hoped for. And they were all in a position to die because of him.
No, their lives were not perfect, by any means. Sterling and his lackeys were vicious and cruel, but for the most part, people lived out their lives in the kingdom of Morgenwraithe. At least all those who avoided Sterling’s wrath.
Even if we achieve victory, how many friends might I lose? Will life even be worth living after all this? If I could just…if I could just gather them up, load them all onto a ship, and sail away—far away—to the edge of the world where we could all die old and happy…
Then I would be content to die in this body.
Even if I never saw her again. My only love. My impossible love.
Maybe one day I could forget…
Simon felt it again. The pounding on his back. He turned his head. Caleb was beating on his back with both fists. He stopped and pointed, jabbing his finger toward the west. Simon looked to the west and squinted. Through the rain and the darkening skies, he couldn’t see anything. Caleb continued his frenzied attempts to direct Simon’s attention to the west.
Bam, bam, bam! Caleb alternated pounding his fists and pointing to his left.
Simon opened his mouth to object. The others dragons were ahead of them now, almost out of sight. The army was making good speed now on horseback.
Simon veered to the west. Caleb continued to hit Simon’s back.
“Caleb!” Simon called out. “I’m going! What is this—?”
Simon hadn’t realized where they were. He soared above the peak of the mountain and reality hit him like a lightning strike.
Below him, in the middle of a clearing, Queen Jaclyn was bound to a stake. She wore boys’ clothes and her soaking wet hair clung to her face—but Simon would know her face anywhere.
“Ha, ha, ha!” Simon’s blood froze within him.
Of course.
Dathien had baited him—and it had worked. Simon had allowed himself to get too close. He pulled up enough to dodge the first explosion, but the blast was close enough to blow him off course. Simon crashed through the tops of nearby trees.
“Simon! NO!”
Through it all, Simon heard Jaclyn cry out—calling his name. Just that was enough to
Simon shook his head. He cursed at himself as he turned to look. Caleb’s head was down. His hands clung to Simon’s back. Simon saw blood on Caleb’s arms. He turned and flew away from the mountain’s summit, landing safely away from the giant.
Caleb slid from Simon’s back.
“You’re bleeding,” Simon said. “Does it hurt?”
“Just a little!” Caleb shouted through the wind and rain.
“He’s laid a trap for you, Simon!”
“I know. And it worked!”
“What are we going to do?”
“You will remain here. I am going to save Jaclyn!”
Caleb grabbed Simon’s wing.
“No. He will kill you. You must take me with you.”
“It’s me he wants,” Simon said. “I’m not going to let him hurt anyone else.”
Simon launched into the air and flew high over the summit. He spotted two guards hiding in the trees. They had either avoided Dathien altogether, or the giant had let them live. Either way, they would have bows, and could not be ignored.
Dathien stood near the cave’s entrance. Simon dove at the giant, changing course often. The giant roared as he raised his arms.
Simon flipped over and reversed direction. He drove himself downward as he unleashed a blast of fire at the giant. Dathien dove out of the way.
The giant jumped to his feet.
“So, you’ve learned a thing or two, dragon-boy! It won’t be enough! I’ll collect my bounty for your head and then sell your little whore back to Sterling! I will be rich enough to own this kingdom!”
Simon was so enraged he could hardly see.
“Whore?” Simon screamed into the wind. “How dare you speak of her that way, you…you freak! I will feed your tongue to the dogs!”
Dathien pumped his hands, sending bolts of energy into the air. Simon avoided all but the last one. That one hit him in a rear leg. Simon cried out. The pain was tremendous, but it only served to fuel his anger. He drove himself directly at Dathien, blowing a blast of flames. The giant was caught off guard. He raised his hand, diverting Simon’s fire. Dathien turned to run.
Simon drove his head into the middle of the wizard’s back. They crashed to the ground and rolled across the clearing. Simon jumped to his feet. He knew that he was vulnerable on the ground. He had to get away—into the safety of the sky.
He almost made it. The first blast hit him in the back of the head. He made a move to his side.
Another blast blew a hole in his right wing. Simon beat his wings as hard as he could. He knew his flight was affected. Any more damage and he would not be able to avoid the giant’s magic.
Simon looked down at Jaclyn. He could not hear her, but he knew she cried out for him. He saw her straining against the ropes. He watched as blood and water dripped to the ground from her face and her arms.
I can’t do it.
Simon closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at Jaclyn anymore.
You are not alone.
Simon drove himself higher.
I must be dying. I’m hearing voices inside my head.
He heard the voice say something else.
Look at me.
Simon did not want to look down. He did not want to see anything.
Look at me!
The voice was too strong. Simon looked down.
Caleb stood next to Jaclyn. Jaclyn was hanging limply against the ropes.
“You are not alone!”
Simon did no
t know if he heard Caleb’s voice—or heard the boy’s thoughts inside his own head. But one thing he was sure of.
Caleb was pointing again. Pointing upward.
Caleb pointed at the beacon tower; the same tower the giant had constructed to alert Sterling’s forces of Simon’s presence.
“Have you gone mad, Caleb?” Simon screamed into the storm. He knew Caleb could not hear him. What Caleb suggested was madness.
But, what can it hurt? Simon thought. If I die this day, I die while trusting my friend.
Simon dodged another blast from Dathien’s hands. He rolled to his back and reversed direction. He passed by the beacon and leveled a blast of fire at it. The wet timber on top of the tower flared—and then fizzled out.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha!” Dathien roared. “Idiot beast! I need no help to end your life this day! Call Sterling’s archers if you must! Let them bear witness to your death!”
Simon made another pass at the tower. This time the flames took hold. The beacon shone its light across the valley in all directions.
Forty-Nine
Heavy rain pelted the riders. Boone Blankenship pulled the hood of his cloak tight around his head.
Something caught his attention at the corner of his vision—a bright flame, burning atop a nearby mountain.
Boone suddenly realized where he was—and what the flames meant.
He pulled next to Helena and pointed. Ben joined them.
“What is that?” Ben asked.
“A beacon tower,” Boone said. “The giant built them at cave sites to send an alert if Simon was seen.”
The trio scanned the skies.
Simon was behind us, earlier,” Helena said. “I saw him.”
“I don’t see him now,” Boone said.
“I don’t think that beacon presents any danger,” Ben said. “Who is going to climb a mountain to chase a dragon in this weather?”
“Someone desperate to gain Sterling’s favor,” Helena said. “Or seeking to avoid his wrath.”