A Trail of Embers

by C A Kinnee

  “Metreo. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. A big man? Wears his hair high in a top knot tied with leather cords?” the First said slowly.

  Kieran nodded. Alion turned back to the waiting scouts.

  “You have heard the news Kieran brings. We part here and meet again at the face of the lair. The Dragon flies, but her nest must still be protected.”

  The words stopped the milling men. Bows and swords were gathered, shoulders slapped and solemn handgrips passed. The protectors of the forest melted into the trees. Kieran caught a brief glimpse of Orlan, his usually smiling gray eyes were solemn. He drifted past surrounded by a circle of wizards.

  Kieran found himself alone, next to the First.

  “We must find Meara. She’s kept the egg safe,” he said.

  “Meara.” The First spoke the name slowly, a distant look on his face. “It means the sea.”

  His words were so soft Kieran almost missed them.

  The moment passed. The First again wore the hard look that was his normal.

  “Come, Kieran. Lead us to the base of the trail. Once she passes through the caves, she has to climb down.”

  ***

  “I thought you were dead!” Meara blurted.

  “I be thinking the news of my death do be exaggerated.” The giant freed the crossbow from his shoulder and cast a wistful glance back the way they had come. “Ah, well, later I guess,” he muttered.

  “Tell me,” Meara demanded, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. Her hood had fallen off and her hair spilled over her face. “How did you find me?” She had been careful since leaving the cave. She had heard the sound of men passing through the woods and seen the shapes of armed figures, but she had been sure to stay well hidden. It annoyed her that Metreo found her so easily.

  “Oh, I no be looking for you, girl. My quarrel is with my old partner, Rahdon. Fortunately for him, I stumbled across you first.”

  Meara peered at his black and white face. She had no doubt what the outcome of that quarrel would be.

  “Well, let’s go back. I’ll distract him. You shoot him!”

  Metreo let out a snort of muffled laughter. “You be a bloodthirsty thing.”

  “No,” Meara argued. “Everyone will be happier without him.” She spun in the direction they had come from.

  “No, no.” Metreo grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. His touch was gentle for such a big man. “Later, girl. First we must find the nest and return this egg.”

  “Do you know where the nest is?”

  “Yes, we be close by, but the Mage has many men between us and there.”

  “And the First?” She was afraid to ask the question she wanted the answer to most. Where was Kieran? Had he survived the journey over the mountain?

  Metreo smiled knowingly.

  “The lad be fine. He should be with the First Council by now. I be thinking together the two of you have a high attraction for trouble. Good thing for you that I was near enough to save you.”

  Meara bristled. “I didn’t need saving. I can take care of myself.”

  He stared unblinkingly at her.

  “I can,” she insisted, glaring back.

  He snorted mirthlessly. “That remains to be seen. We go now, but you will follow my commands. I will not be risking my neck for a stubborn girl, no matter what the need be.”

  Meara sniffed disdainfully and pulled her hood up against the sideways rain. She could take care of herself regardless of what Metreo thought.

  “Come. Stick close and be silent.”

  The command sent irritation bristling through her. Wordlessly, she gathered the egg, seething when she found herself following obediently in Metreo’s tracks.

  Travelling with Metreo was nothing like following Kieran. Metreo moved like a ghost, touching nothing, leaving no trail. For all his bulk, he passed through the brush silently, blending with the shadows, using what cover there was to hide his passing. He brought her with him like a puff of wind blowing a dust speck. She gritted her teeth against a sharp stitch gnawing at her side. No way would she beg him to slow down.

  The struggle to keep up kept her eyes glued to the ground. He followed a trail only he could see. Meara began to worry he would leave her behind. She edged closer to him. That was better. Staying right on his heels saved her from the lash of the branches snapping back behind him. She blinked away the rain and tried to see past him. They reached a rock bank and Metreo stopped and turned back to her, offering her a hand up and over the massive boulders and fallen trees.

  “Here. We’ll stop for a rest.” He held out a flask. “Water,” he said and smiled knowingly at her suspicious look. “I won’t be poisoning you and tossing you from a cliff. I be thinking there are great plans for you. The Mage is interested in you. There is no doubt of that. That night in the inn, he looked for you after you left. I did wonder why. Now I be thinking I know the answer.” His voice trailed off as his obsidian eyes studied her. He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “No matter, what messes with the plans of the Mage works for me.”

  “He looked for me?” Fear snaked along her backbone. “Why? What interest could he have in me? He hunted the egg.”

  The giant shook his head, dismissing her excuse. “No, once he spotted you, the egg was secondary. Oh, he still wants it, but he wants you more.”

  Meara took the flask and gulped a drink of water. She choked as the full impact of his words sunk in. The Mage wanted her. Memory of the night at the inn replayed in her mind. What is your name, girl? Her slow reply, “Meara.” She would have told him whatever he asked. I wish to know more of you. Why?

  “I know not.”

  Meara looked up, frightened. Had he read her mind. No, his next words reassured her. He had merely guessed the direction of her thoughts.

  “There is more afoot here than the return of the dragon’s egg. The hate between Alion and Jakhon runs deep. You are caught in the middle. Why?” The big man scowled. “I do not like guessing games. Come, we near the nest and the Mage’s men be everywhere. Drink up.”

  He waited for her to pass the flask back and stowed it in a large pocket of his cloak. The stock of his crossbow filled one big hand. “Look, girl.” He pointed a finger at the sky. “Your raven watches. Come, the hour grows late and I tire of this task.”

  Meara glanced up sharply.

  “Murkwing! How did he find me?”

  “Some bonds can’t be explained. Your raven followed me over the mountain,” Metreo answered, then turned his attention to checking the catch on his crossbow.

  Murkwing squawked and shifted on the gnarled tree branch. His eyes gleamed with curiosity. Once again, he had found her. Metreo’s talk of bonds reminded her of the link Metreo and the Mage had shared. What did she really know of Metreo? In Vendonne, he would have taken the egg from her without remorse. Had it been for money or something else—something darker? The Mage had many followers. Could she truly trust Metreo? Maybe this was a ploy to deliver her to the Mage.

  “The egg and I will carry on alone. Many thanks. There are things we must do.” She looked up. Metreo was watching her, his black eyes inscrutable.

  “Be still, girl. I have no ties to the Mage. You and the egg are safe. You will need more than a white-winged raven to lead you from this tangle.”

  “I think we should trust him,” the egg whispered.

  She stared into Metreo’s eyes.

  “How do we know though? What if we can’t?”

  “Sometimes there is no other option. As my bonded one, you must learn to take a risk,” the egg said.

  Meara frowned. The closer she came to meeting Kieran’s people, the more vulnerable she felt. She would return the egg to the nest and strike out on her own. Too many people were pulling at her, telling her what she must do. The egg, Metreo, even the unknown First Council, everyone, but Kieran, thought they knew what was best for her. He just wanted to be rid of her. She would return the egg and be off.

  The thought brought a l
ump to her throat—a mixture of loneliness and fear. She had spent her life on the outside looking in. For a while on the trail, that loneliness had vanished.

  “Well, girl?” The soft words were probing.

  Meara looked away. Metreo saw too much. She couldn’t trust him with her thoughts.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  Metreo’s sharp eyes narrowed. He nodded silently and started up the final trail.

  Chapter 39

  Danger—be wary.

  Wait—watch!

  In the darkness

  pay heed.

  Translated from the Chronicles of the Egg

  Kieran dropped down next to the First. Sharp broken stone bit into his knees. He ignored it and focused on catching his breath. He had thought following Alion would be easy. He hadn’t expected him to set such a grueling pace. He’d barely kept up. He should have remembered that Alion was a legend in the bush. Like Metreo. Kieran frowned. The First shared a lot of similarities with the big mercenary.

  Cautiously, he raised himself up on his elbows and peered over the rocky outcrop Alion had picked for shelter.

  “Here, drink this. It will help you catch your breath.” The First offered him a flattened metal flask.

  Kieran took it gratefully and took a gulp. The flask’s contents burned a path to his stomach. He coughed and spit out a mouthful.

  “Don’t waste it, lad,” the First said. He sent Kieran a look of amusement and tightened the top back onto it. “Look. See for yourself how the swarm treats the property of the dragon.”

  Kieran lifted his head and looked cautiously in the direction Alion pointed. Now he had all too clear a picture of what lay before them. The sight banished the ache of cold and the discomfort of the rain dripping off his face. If Meara made it through the caves, she would be here, at the entrance to the Dragon’s land. Unfortunately, that here—a flat pommel of land abutting the sea—bristled with the Mage’s men.

  The First nudged him, nodding towards the entrance of the cave.

  “The swarm blocks the way. But,” he said thoughtfully, “the Mage pushes them hard. Remember, tired men are careless men.”

  The quiet whisper of the First was almost lost in the growl of wind blowing off the sea. Kieran could smell the smoke of campfires and the scent of long ago char. It hadn’t taken the swarm long to settle in and establish their base camp on the wide-open flat of the dragon’s gifting ground. Kieran snorted softly. The swarm had decided that the lure of Shakala’s cattle outweighed the risk of her anger. They probably thought that the Mage’s magic would protect them. Fools. The open ground was the dragon’s dinner plate. It provided fast and easy meals for a tired dragon not looking for the excitement of a hunt.

  “I posted guards here,” the First said, his voice troubled. “With luck, they stayed clear of the swarm.”

  Kieran stared into the murk. Which guards? He scowled at the rain. Was he responsible for the fate of people at whose knees he’d learned scouting and wood lore?

  The First’s voice floated from the darkness. “Your Father is safe. He leads those following your trail.”

  Kieran flushed guiltily. A flare of relief passed through him. He had gone in search of the dragon’s egg alone because he was responsible for its loss. The council’s decision to send seasoned scouts to retrieve the egg was one he’d seen as punishment. Now he regretted the worry he had caused. When this was over, he would have amends to make.

  ***

  Rain ran in rivers down Meara’s face. Hours ago, she had given up on her hood. The wind only tore it from her head, besides, she couldn’t get any wetter than she already was. She brushed her hair back from her eyes and peered out at the tall cedars surrounding them. Her plan to get rid of Metreo was a failure. He saw every stumble she made, waiting patiently to haul her over broken trees and around sucking bogs. If it weren’t for the bare pink skin at the back of his bald head, she’d swear he had eyes there.

  The huge man was a mixture of kindness and deadly force, quick to mock, but strangely understanding. When she’d asked about the wild flow of curls covering his head, he’d muttered that the energy from the fireball had left him as pretty as a girl. Fat chance, Meara thought. At their first stop, Metreo selected his sharpest knife, sliced off a sliver of soap and shaved the curls from his head.

  A waterlogged section of her own hair fell across her eyes and she raked it back. Maybe she should consider that hairstyle for herself. She sighed and shook her head. Why worry about hair when any moment they might meet the dragon and she would singe it off.

  The lair was close and as the egg had said, the dragon was angry. Whole trees were uprooted from the broken ground. They lay in piles like matchsticks in a game of Nim. Saturated dirt covered the empty holes where the trees once stood. Meara surreptitiously rubbed her bottom. She knew all about those sneaky holes. Her last fall into one of them hurt twice, once from the hard landing, the second from Metreo’s laughter. She glared at his back.

  She hadn’t spoken to him since. Instead, she looked harder for a place to slip away. She would rather travel alone than give him so much entertainment.

  She breathed shallowly. The stink of burned wood hung in heavy clouds. It was as cloying and pervasive as cheap perfume. Every breath caught in her throat. The ancient cedars had suffered the worst of the dragon’s rage. They leaned heavily to the side, their massive trunks scorched—blighted faces twisted in the agony of burning—eyes closed forever. Meara looked away.

  “I be thinking Shakala is not pleased,” Metreo said meditatively. His voice gave no clue to what other thoughts he had. “This be a recent fire. See how the smoke still hangs?”

  Meara narrowed her eyes against the pelting rain to see what he did. Steam hovered in wispy clouds defying the rain’s attempt to wash it away. She edged a small step closer to Metreo and cursed the movement. As usual he thought her actions funny.

  His black eyes glinted mockingly.

  “For one so well connected to the dragon, you do not look happy at the chance of a meeting,” he observed.

  Meara shivered. Meet Shakala? She did not intend to meet the dragon. Her thoughts ran more towards dropping the egg in the nest and running for the hills.

  “And when you do that, what will happen? You can’t live alone in the forest. You must stay near me.”

  The egg yawned as though waking from a nap. He sounded pleased with himself, as if he had done all the work to get them here.

  “Of course, I didn’t, but I helped,” he muttered irritably.

  Meara rolled her eyes.

  “I can’t stay with you. Dragons live with dragons and people live with people,” she said.

  “If that is so, where will you live? You refuse to seek the safety of the Protector, and you cannot go back to the town. What will you do?” The egg sounded worried.

  “I don’t know,” she said bleakly.

  “Quiet.” Metreo’s hand closed on her shoulder. He stepped in front of her, placing her in the shelter of his shadow.

  She tried to wiggle away from the clinging bite of his fingers, but they held her shoulder in a vise grip.

  “Let go—”

  “Hsst,” he whispered.

  Meara met his black eyes and found all trace of humor gone.

  The hand on her shoulder tightened further, pulling her back, positioning her behind him.

  “Sorry, girl, it must be the bush,” he said.

  Briefly the humor returned to his eyes. He shoved her sideways. She tumbled off the path, landing in a thicket of tangleweed. The branches closed over her head. Metreo pulled them aside. His finger touched his lips in silent command as his mouth formed a single word. Hide. Meara burrowed into the brush, making herself as small as possible. Sharp branches poked her, dead leaves brushed her skin. She felt only fear.

  Tucked in her prickly nest, Meara heard what Metreo already had, the sound of heavy bodies breaking through the trees. Until now, the howling wind hid the sound of the Mage’s me
n. Meara’s mouth dried, her heart pounded. She willed herself to stillness.

  The crashing faded. She held her breath and waited. The swarm had seen Metreo.

  At first nothing happened. It was as if the swarm was more stunned to see Metreo than he was to see them. Then, the stillness ended. The woods exploded into violence. Whooping men leapt to meet Metreo their swords drawn, their spears reaching. Caught in her cage of branches, Meara watched in soundless horror.

  Metreo faced the swarm with a grim smile. He growled a long undulating cry and surged into battle. A battered Miandrogas reached him. Metreo blocked a knife thrust and raised his crossbow. His bow sang a song of death as he notched arrow after arrow, shooting them one on top of the other. A mocking smile was locked on his divided face.

  The swarm stung him like angry bees. Hemmed in by fighters, Metreo abandoned the bow. He drew a short-curved sword from the scabbard on his back. Two men attacked one behind the other. They tried to push him off balance. Metreo goaded them, driving them back towards the trees. His black eyes burned with savage intensity. He leapt towards his attackers. One fell. Two more took his place. A wild slash opened a cut on Metreo’s forehead. He shook his head, flicking the blood from his eyes, splattering the branches with bright red drops. Another fighter fell under Metreo’s sword. The man grunted and lay still. The swarm retreated.

  “Come on then.” Metreo taunted.

  The men roared and descended in a heaving pack. Metreo collapsed under its weight, snorted and surged upward, shaking men off like troublesome ants. Meara held her breath. Metreo was free. The men weren’t finished. They regrouped, and united, attacked as one, carrying him back to the ground.

  Meara sank deeper in her thorny hole and prayed the men would concentrate on Metreo and not look for her and the egg. Howls of victory sent ground dwelling forest creatures scurrying through the undergrowth.

  “What do we do with him?” A hoarse shout arose above the others.

  “Kill him!” cursed a man holding a dirty rag to a bleeding slash over one eye.

  “No!” Rahdon, dirty and battered, his blonde hair streaked with mud and flattened by the rain, emerged from the trees. “The Mage wants him alive. He will mete out justice, not the likes of you.”