Were of the Drakon

by B Cameron Lee

  After leaving Arwhon and Shiri, Cringle stepped into the back door of the bathroom, surprising the servant who waited there. He put his finger to his lips to signal quiet and drifted silently past her. A strong unsuspected gust of wind blew through the kitchen and preparation areas at the end of the long corridor, much to the consternation of those working there. It caused a momentary chaos allowing Cringle to step out and whisper through the kitchens unnoticed. Passing through the laundry areas he found some more appropriate clothing and stepped into an alcove to change. When he emerged he was just another worker carrying a bundle of worn clothes. It didn’t take long to mingle with servants heading out of the palace through the well guarded tunnel which was the worker’s entrance and soon Cringle found himself alone in the city proper.

  To test his speech and disguise he went to buy food from a stall and realised he had no money. Time to put Merdon’s training to work. He joined the crowds on the footpath and managed to quickly relieve a merchant of his purse. Cringle personally didn’t agree with stealing, that was in his past, so he followed the man to his place of business which wasn’t far. Call it a loan, Cringle thought to himself, the man would be recompensed with interest. At another food stall he bought something to eat and asked the stallholder how things were in the city. The man seemed surprised at the interest shown but engaged in conversion until another customer came along. Cringle then slipped away.

  In this manner, Cringle crisscrossed the city, asking people what their thoughts and feelings were on many subjects. By the time he took a room at a small, disreputable looking inn, he had a feeling for the city’s undercurrents. He’d spotted some thieves and miscreants, obvious to him after Merdon’s lessons but not as many as there were in Belvedere. Carefully sweeping his uncared for room with tiny gusts of air, he eventually blew the detritus out into the corridor and didn’t feel any qualms about doing it, the inn was a dump. That night, downstairs, he was able to converse with the lowest strata of society as they came to the inn to drink rice wine and play dice, a seemingly universal pastime.

  By the next morning Cringle had achieved his objective. Very few of the city’s inhabitants he’d talked with were unhappy at the way their city and country was run. No one went hungry, there were no beggars or street urchins and generally, everyone seemed content with their lot. Of course there were the normal few dissenters. Those who would never be happy, no matter how much was done for them but all in all Kenjida seemed to be doing a good job at ruling.

  Time to go back to the palace.

  Late the previous afternoon, Arwhon had been put on the spot trying to explain Cringle’s absence.

  “He is one of the four Mages who defeated the Q’Herindam. He’s an important person in his own right. I cannot tell him what to do. He wanted to see the city by himself, so he went.”

  Shiri sat quietly, observing, aware of the possibility of treachery. She was still Arwhon’s Shield and always would be. She took her position seriously. Arwhon was in the habit of trusting people too much. In spite of making for good relations at times, it also got him into trouble. He would probably never change, his openness and honesty was one of the reasons he succeeded so often in negotiations.

  However, the King was annoyed that his hold on his guests wasn’t anywhere near as strong as he thought it was but having seen Firemagic in action, he didn’t want to upset Arwhon any more than he had to. Instead he quizzed Arwhon on the way of life in various parts of the eastern countries and asked pertinent questions regarding the possibility of Trade as far away as Myseline.

  “You’d have to contend with the Draakon Reavers,” Arwhon said after he’d thought of some of the problems involved. “They are adept at piracy and will take whatever cargo they can.”

  The King’s answer caught him by surprise.

  “We have a Treaty with the Reaver scum. They leave our ships alone and we buy their captives for an inflated price. It’s worth their while to have it so. Cringle’s mother was once bought from the Reavers.”

  “Where is she from originally?” Arwhon asked.

  “Somewhere south of Draakonia on the coast of the Inland Sea. I can never remember the name of the place but enough of this, you have need to learn about Northern Cheshwon.”

  Arwhon and Shiri sat quietly as Kenjida began his discourse on the northern part of Cheshwon.

  “Up until the time my brother Tarsega took the throne, Cheshwon was one country with one government and one ruler. There were many warlords scattered throughout Cheshwon but all gave their allegiance to the King. They sometimes fought among one another over a bit of land or some imagined slight and sometimes the King was involved to settle disputes. This country is vast though and often we would only hear of something many weeks after the incident was over. This is how Furoshiko rose to power.”

  The King paused and signalled a servant who came forward and filled his cup with wine. The King took a draught before continuing.

  “Furoshiko warred with all of his neighbours. He is an excellent general and his mounted horsemen are formidable foes. Each time he beat a neighbouring clan, Furoshiko made a treaty with them, as long as they recognised his superiority. If they didn’t, he took everything he could carry away and left that province poor and weak. In this manner his grip on the surrounding country and its warlords tightened. Soon his fame had spread and some warlords made Treaties before they were even attacked. Tarsega had heard some rumours by then and occasionally riders had come down from the north to tell of minor wars but there were no real outcries.”

  Arwhon thought of some of his own campaigns and how nobody knew much of what was occurring unless the information was passed along and how difficult it would be to get that information out of an area if all the roads were guarded by loyal followers.

  “By the time we knew what was happening, Furoshiko had a huge following and was firmly ensconced as a leader in the north. Unfortunately, Cringle’s mother Yletta had already been gone on the Trade mission for over four months. Furoshiko’s detention of Yletta on her return was the final straw and my brother Tarsega had no choice but to take an army north. He underestimated Furoshiko and was killed in a battle. His retainers and the remaining men rushed south and warned me of what had occurred. I took the reigns of rule and quickly raised a huge army to march north. We met on what is now the border between northern and southern Cheshwon. The armies were camped on either side of a huge plain. Each force numbered about twenty thousand soldiers and when Furoshiko and I met in the centre of the plain, we mutually decided it was sheer stupidity to march the forces into war and lose so many men. In effect, I agreed to split the country into north and south. The division actually makes it easier to manage and Cheshwon, as a whole, has prospered for it.”

  Kenjida sat back, observing Arwhon’s reaction to his confession. Arwhon wasn’t sure what the King expected but it made sense to Arwhon. The country was so vast, it would be impossible to hold if there was a strong enough disagreement between north and south.

  “If the concord between north and south is working, you should be very proud of the number of lives you saved that day. We’ve seen many dead soldiers in Belvedere during the war with the Dominion, not a pleasant sight those piles of bodies feeding carrion birds. There is no honour in useless sacrifice. It’s a shame Cringle’s father is dead but at least we have a chance of finding his mother. Can we visit the north?”

  Kenjida seemed a little uncomfortable as he studied Arwhon and Shiri.

  “Furoshiko is suspicious of strangers. So much so that he has declared travellers must carry travel documents issued by his embassy here in Mandoran. The Trade wagons and their drivers are known along the border so they don’t need travel documents. New drivers ride with the old ones until they become known. You will need documents, all three of you and I would suggest not mentioning Yletta’s name at any time on your travels, Furoshiko treasures her.”

  Kenjida appeared uncomfortable. There was something he was not saying. Shiri leaned cl
ose to Arwhon and whispered.

  “He’s hiding something Arwhon. It could be important to us later.”

  Arwhon nodded and turned his attention back to Kenjida.

  “Is there something else we should know about?”

  The King leaned forward and lowered his voice. His translator did the same, speaking in low tones as he conveyed the King’s warning.

  “It’s possible these walls have ears, so I will be brief. Furoshiko always has a Shaman at his side. The woman is extremely powerful and utterly ruthless. I have seen your magic but hers is different. It warps the mind. She can bend the will of one or a hundred, numbers don’t seem to matter. It is she you should fear as she is one of the main reasons Furoshiko rose to power so quickly.”

  “What does she look like?” Arwhon asked.

  “Young, always young, although she has disguises. She wears deerskin robes patterned with beads sewn on in odd designs and her hair is black as a raven’s wing.”

  Arwhon thought of Empress Martine and how, in her last minutes, she had aged a hundred years. He wondered if there was any similarities between this shaman of Furoshiko’s and the seeresses out on the Barsoom Plains. Whatever was going on, it sounded like they were up against something new.

  At that moment there was a slight noise at the entry and within minutes Cringle was back with them, a big smile on his face. He faced Kenjida who was looking very annoyed and bowed low in a sweeping bow before speaking in fluent Cheshwon.

  “It appears your subjects like you your majesty. You have a high approval rating. My congratulations on the way you have run the country.”

  The King appeared pleased and his demeanour altered immediately as he extended an invitation for Cringle to sit.

  “What did I miss?” Cringle asked Arwhon.

  “A lot but we’ll tell you later. I want to leave tomorrow. Are you alright with that?”

  “Perfectly Arwhon, I was going to suggest it myself.”

  It was early afternoon by now and when Arwhon raised the question of leaving in the morning, the King sent a runner with a lengthy note to the Northern Cheshwon embassy. It carried the King’s seal and was a request to issue the three foreigners identity papers for the trip north. By late afternoon the stamped papers were back, so there was now no obstacle to their departure. After an early meal that evening they claimed tiredness and with Krissi in tow, sought their rooms. Here Arwhon and Shiri sat down with Cringle and went over everything the King had said. After Cringle had retired to his room, the young couple lay awake in each others arms for a while discussing the coming adventure.

  Before long, sleep claimed them.

  13. Ambush in The North

  Duran, Rancid and Vixen were more than ready to leave. The stables had been sumptuous but ultimately boring. There was nothing to see as light and ventilation were supplied through high grilled openings. Krissi was now soaring thermals, glad there was some action at last. She wanted to hunt deer and there was none around here, apart from the King’s ornamental herd in his private garden and they were off limits.

  The three travellers mounted and a trumpet blew. The gates before them opened and they rode out onto the parade ground. Outside the gates, in perfect formation, a troop of mounted cavalry waited, their horses standing perfectly still. Arwhon counted. Twenty four of them, arranged in eight rows of three abreast, perfectly aligned one with the other. All had bedrolls and bulging saddlebags and were heavily armed. The King beamed.

  “Your escort, some of my own personal cavalry. Possibly the best fighters in the land. I hope you’ll not need them.”

  There was nothing Arwhon could say. He hated pomp and ceremony and would rather have rode out quietly if that was at all possible. It was not to be.

  “Thank you Kenjida. I’ll send them back when we no longer require them.”

  They turned their mounts in to follow their escort, riding across the courtyard and clip-clopping through the tunnel to the final exit, turning in the saddle to wave a brief farewell to the king. Once through, the gates closed firmly behind them. Their escort went first through the streets and thoroughfares of the city, the lead horseman sounding a curved horn to warn of their approach. The citizens moved out of the way in an orderly fashion and before much time had passed the three travellers and their escort rode out of the north gate of Mandoran.

  Initially the countryside was cleared, in fact for most of the day they rode through farmlands devoted to growing rice, terraced where there were hills. It was similar to Tarkent and Arwhon was pleased to recognise some of the vegetation. Toward the end of the day, the farmland was broken up by stands of forest and they started to climb. Before night fell, the group came to an inn and hostelry. Cringle, with his now fluent Cheshwon, conversed with the Captain of their escort, Arwhon picking up the gist of the conversation. Eventually Cringle turned to him and Shiri and explained.

  “It’s standard practice in Cheshwon to have these inns and stables on the main routes about a day’s travel apart. We won’t really have to rough it at all on our journey and the baths will be welcome.”

  They were, as was the comfort and convenience of the inns they stayed at. In this manner they made their way north day after day. The trip was really interesting as the country they travelled through was new to them and they came across many towns and villages along their route. Cheshwon was far more heavily populated than the countries to the west but still had vast tracts of wild forest. It was beautiful and civilised at the same time. The people they passed showed curiosity at the appearance of Shiri and Arwhon, clad in armour and mail as they were and with the strange eyes both had. Shiri hadn’t bothered with the glamour since they’d left Mandoran. Some waved. They waved back, wearing friendly smiles.

  Three weeks of pleasant travel ended abruptly one afternoon when they approached a solid looking guardhouse built of dark stone, standing right beside the road. It appeared deserted but as their little cavalcade drew to a halt before it, a guard came out. He was dressed in brown woollen trousers and woven shirt with a fur vest over the top. Belted to his waist was a broad, curved sword. The man appraised them for a moment, staring at Arwhon and Shiri, no doubt intrigued by their eyes, before calling out. Another guard, dressed identically but far more clean-cut than the first, emerged from the guardhouse. This man strode up to the Captain’s horse and reached up to receive the papers which were handed over. As the man read them, he looked over at Arwhon, Shiri and Cringle, studying them closely. Then he spoke to the Captain of their escort who turned his horse about to converse with them. Cringle translated.

  “This is as far as the escort can go. It is the border between South and North Cheshwon. I’ve explained to the man in charge of the guardhouse that you were guests of King Kenjida and that you wished to meet with Furoshiko. Your papers are in order and he is holding them for the moment. We go now. Farewell.”

  Without further ado, the Captain looked over his men and barked an order. Immediately the other twenty three riders turned their horses on the spot and waited for the Captain to ride to the front of the column before they all moved off together, heading back south. Soon Arwhon, Shiri and Cringle were staring at the backs of their escort as they disappeared into the distance. The guard came and addressed them, asking them to dismount and gave them their papers back. That was when Krissi decided to land. She came down from a great height, backfeathering while she was still quite high. The noise through her pinion feathers was a loud thrumming and their horses, used to Krissi, just stood quietly while the guard took one look up before letting out an involuntary cry and running for the guardhouse as fast as his legs would propel him.

  When Krissi was on the ground and quietly standing with them, the guard leader emerged from the protection of the guardhouse and carefully walked over to them. Cringle interpreted.

  “You are to remain at the inn further along the road tonight. Tomorrow there will be a detachment of mounted guards to escort you to the capital to meet with Furoshiko. The inn wi
ll be given its instructions. It will not cost you anything for your stay.”

  The man stepped back and indicated the direction he wanted them to take by pointing. There was nothing further to say so the three of them mounted up and rode on.

  “What do you think Shiri?” Arwhon asked.

  “We’re being managed. I don’t like it. Ever since we met with Kenjida we’ve had no option but to go in the direction we’re pointed. It’s still happening. I’d like to know what was in that letter to the guard commander.”

  Arwhon nodded in agreement.

  “Me too. What do you think Cringle?”

  “I think we may be in trouble. As Shiri said, it’s all too pat. I smell a rat. A dead one.”

  They drew up to the inn and dismounted.

  “We’d best keep our wards up, locked into place. I’m not sure how this is going to play out.”

  Before they entered the inn, Arwhon sent a thought to Krissi, showing a mental picture of her staying with the horses, standing guard all night. Krissi shook herself and leapt into the air before sending a picture back to Arwhon of herself perched on a rooftop overlooking the stables, staying alert. They entered the inn and declined the offer of having their bags carried off to their room. They were taking no chances of being permanently separated from their belongings.

  It was a long night but nothing eventuated. The food wasn’t poisoned and there were no overt indications of trouble. They slept lightly and in the morning, after an early breakfast, went outside to find a small unit of mounted guards waiting for them. Once more Arwhon and Shiri drew attention. One barked out something which sounded to Arwhon like an admonition to hurry up. Cringle answered and Arwhon understood him to say something like.

  “We’ll take whatever time we need and if you talk to my Master like that again, my sword will taste your guts.”

  It was a contest of wills but the guard had sense enough to realise he was technically in the wrong and bowed his head to Cringle to acknowledge his rebuttal.