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

  “Oh, sorry,” Dax broke in. Now he remembered, but he did not like the question. He looked at the ground. “He hates it, but that’s what I do, so he lives with it. I think that’s one of the reasons he stays away so long at a time. He can feel my danger, but if he’s at a distance, I guess it’s easier to bear.” Dax was feeling pensive to the point of getting maudlin. He looked up at Scarlet. “Besides, as leader, I don’t take that many chances.”

  “Leading from behind, huh?” Scarlet’s eyes twinkled as he said it. He knew Dax fought alongside his men and usually took on more than his share of the combat.

  Dax snorted. “Otherwise people start complaining there’s not enough glory to go around.” He tried to match his words with a carefree grin, but knew he did not fool Scarlet.

  #

  Their route led across the Verda Plains of East Landly just south of the Gemmick Hills. The region was sparsely populated, the terrain was easy, and they made good time. Other than idle conversation, neither man said much as they traveled. Dax’s pensive mood lingered. He thought about the commands he had overseen in his six years as a mercenary leader. He had led successful campaigns, but what had he accomplished other than earning a tidy sum of money? Blood and pain. He was very good at that.

  He was no longer king of West Landly. Years ago he had vowed to retake the throne, but so far he had done nothing to complete that goal. Oh, he was a seasoned leader and a good fighter in his own right, but another sat on the throne in his place. He had given up his kingdom as a boy. Was this the time to do . . . something?

  Scarlet’s horse stepped close enough to cause Dax’s horse to step away. “I said, do you want to camp for the night over by those trees? There looks to be water over there.”

  “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” He smiled sheepishly.

  “Something’s on your mind.”

  “I want to talk to Renshau about something.” Dax shrugged.

  “The battles are all starting to look the same, aren’t they?”

  Dax was not surprised the other man had sensed at least part of his disquiet. “Other than the money, what are we accomplishing?”

  “Other than the money?” Scarlet smiled. “As someone who grew up without any, I think that’s something.”

  Was this the choice for Dax? A mercenary’s earnings or a kingdom to rule?

  #

  They rode into the small town of Dinwiddie on the shores of the Circular Sea in the late afternoon. The entrance road to Iron Moor had beckoned, but they passed by and went on into the town instead. Although they were both welcome at the academy, Scarlet planned to take a room at Feedle’s Inn just off the main square. He wanted to get an early start on the road to Timberlake in the morning. An early start would have been difficult if he had rejoined the social milieu of the academy.

  Dax was not eager to be alone with his thoughts, so he joined his partner for supper. No one from the academy was there that night, and neither man knew any of the local citizens at the inn that evening. They ate a leisurely meal and lingered over a pint of ale. Finally Dax bade his friend a safe journey and took his leave.

  It was still early, and on impulse Dax stopped at the Temple of the Goddess before heading back to Iron Moor. He needed to think, and he had found temples good places to do it. A long time ago, when he was living on the streets of Tazzelton, he had received . . . what had he received? Was it a message from the Goddess herself? Was it a prophecy? The Great Mother of the Great Temple in Tazzelton had set his feet on the convoluted path that had led him safely to Iron Moor. Ever since, when he had wanted to think about his future, a temple had been a comfortable and appropriate setting to do it.

  Although Dinwiddie’s temple had walls of stone, they were unworked field stones. The lectern where the priestesses spoke was carved with leaves and scrollwork, but the rest of the woodwork was plain. No one was in sight, which suited Dax’s mood. He sighed, and the familiar peace of the sanctuary calmed him. He took a seat toward the back.

  The colored glass above the rostra gleamed with dazzling reds in the last light of the sun. Blood red. Blood and pain. Now he deliberately asked himself the question that troubled him. Could he win back his throne? Did he want to win back his throne? What would it do to West Landly? He had lived as an outsider even as he lived within the kingdom. Iron Moor was far from the seat of power, and his mercenary jobs had taken him even farther afield. Dax knew many mercenaries, most of them graduates of the academy, but how strong a force could he assemble? He had some money, but raising a force to take the throne . . .

  But would he use force to take the throne? West Landly had a king who ruled capably. What would be the reaction if the boy who could not hold the throne a dozen years ago showed up in Tazzelton and demanded his crown back? Even if his demand was backed by a substantial army, there would almost certainly be blood and pain. People would be killed—people who were loyal subjects of the current king and only wanted to live in peace.

  He heard a noise and looked up. Someone had come into the sanctuary through the small door at the front. A priestess wearing a long brown robe approached him. She had the hood up in the early evening chill. Dax left his thoughts in place and nodded in recognition. A priestess always approached people in the sanctuary to see to their needs. “Good evening, Sister. I thank you for your attention, but I am here for a quiet place to think.”

  Unexpectedly the woman motioned for him to move over, and she sat down next to him. She said, “This is a fine place to think, but tonight you need to talk.” Reaching up, she flipped back the hood over her head. The multicolored braid of the Great Mother lay on her brow.

  Startled, Dax slid off the bench and knelt before her. “Great Mother, I am honored.”

  She reached out, put her hand on his head, and gave the ritual blessing. Afterward she tipped his face up toward her and smiled. “It is my honor to speak with you again, Gard Daxdendraig.” She smiled as she said his name. “Please,” she patted the seat beside her, “sit with me. We have things to discuss.”

  Dax’s thoughts were a jumble. She knew his name and wanted to speak with him again? Dinwiddie was far to the north of Tazzelton, yet the Great Mother was here? He looked at her closely. Her hair was gray, but he knew her face. “Sister Hennet?”

  She smiled. “You have grown.”

  He took a seat beside her, but for a time he said nothing. She was silent as well, so Dax finally offered, “I guess I should thank you. Your help years ago put me on the path that led me to Iron Moor and safety.”

  “You are still on that path.” She looked at him intently. “But it does not lead to safety.”

  The path. His path? Perhaps tonight he could get some answers. “The Great Mother”—he gestured with his hand—“the previous Great Mother, I mean. She said there was trouble coming. At the time, I thought she meant for me and the trouble Mathilde would cause.” He looked at her intently. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  Sister Hennet nodded sadly. “Great troubles.”

  “The Goddess in her Divinatory Aspect has revealed this to you?” Although there were many aspects of the Goddess, the Divinatory Aspect was never mentioned outside the church hierarchy—except to him. “So I am destined to stop these troubles?”

  “Destined?” She repeated his word as a question. “What is destiny?”

  “You knew I would be here tonight, and you traveled all the way from Tazzelton. You knew it was my destiny to be here tonight?”

  She shrugged. “Destiny? Foresight? The Goddess’s hand moving us together?” She shook her head. “Answer me this. What is free will? If the Goddess in her Divinatory Aspect has seen this meeting, knows of our conversation . . .” She shrugged. “What decisions are there for us to make?” She looked solemn for a moment, but then she smiled. “I should not burden you with the philosophical debates of our order.”

  The Great Mother was not here by chance. Dax wanted to get to the point. “So why are you here tonight? What message do you b
ring?”

  “Your path is at a turning point.”

  True enough. That was exactly what he had come here to consider. If the Great Mother was here to talk about his destiny, evidently all cards were on the table—face up. “The throne of West Landly.” He looked her directly in the eye. That was what had been on his mind. Was that the turning point?

  She arched her eyebrows skeptically. “A throne attained through force of arms is a precarious perch.”

  “Orin Herne told me that once.”

  “He made a noble sacrifice.” She looked solemn and nodded. “It was not in vain.”

  When she did not offer anything more, Dax asked, “So we play a guessing game?”

  “You are not guessing. You already know in your heart the way you will take.”

  Did he? He had already decided he did not want to continue the life of a mercenary. “I had planned to talk about my career with Commandant Renshau while I visited the academy.” He sighed. “I trust his advice.”

  “How do you sharpen a sword?” she asked.

  Dax blinked, surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation. “A sword?” he pondered aloud to give himself time to think. The Great Mother was not asking for herself. None of the members of any of the aspects of the Goddess used swords. This was a metaphor. “You grind the edge on a sharpening stone.” She said nothing, so he continued, “Then you take the fine stone to it to hone the edge. Finally you strop it to polish it to a keen edge. A good sword, well prepared, will cut paper with a whisper and no snags.” He paused. “So, I am to be a sword now?”

  “One that needs a good stropping.” She smiled, and her eyes twinkled with amusement.

  “And Renshau will see to my stropping,” Dax concluded.

  She nodded. “And if you spend any more time thinking about taking the West Landly throne, I may take you outside and strop you myself.” She chucked a little and sighed. “You should have seen your eyes when I said that.”

  Now that her mood had turned more lighthearted, Dax asked her for news. She nodded and patted his hand reassuringly. “The kingdom is in good hands, and the people are happy.”

  What more could he wish for the kingdom he once ruled? He smiled in return. “I’m glad.”

  She sighed and frowned, serious again. “But great trouble is coming. You will face great peril, but you will bring hope.”

  He felt suspended in midair. Trouble? Peril? Hope? Confused, he asked, “My path?”

  She nodded. “Talk to Commandant Renshau.” She smiled and patted his hand again. “Get away from the life of a mercenary and rediscover who you are. Your path lies to the east.”

  Dax raised his eyebrows. She said nothing more and stood up. The conversation was over. He stood also and watched as the woman flipped her hood up over her head and walked out of the sanctuary.

  To the east? He had just come from the east, but other than tribal unrest, nothing was stirring in the east. She spoke as if she—or the Goddess?—had been watching his every move. Destiny? Choice? Whichever, her message was clear. He had to talk to Renshau.

  Chapter 2

  The sky was deep violet, and the first stars of twilight showed between scattered dark-gray clouds dotting the heavens. Tam Veanni sat in the guard chair on the second level inside the gatehouse at the main entrance to Iron Moor. He was not looking out the window at the road beyond the wall. Iron-bound, oak beams barred that way. Instead, he had turned his chair so he could look out the other window at the paved causeway that ran through the center of the academy to the Circular Sea. The stone buildings on either side were a solid and permanent part of his world. The evening’s vespros bugle call had sounded some time ago, and now the academy lay still in the deepening shadows of evening. Tonight’s first watch kept him up until well after midnight, but this was Veanni’s favorite part of the day. He enjoyed watching the school slip into its evening slumber.

  He heard the clop of a horse’s shoes on the paved stretch outside the gate, and he turned to look out the opening on that side of the tower. A man sat astride a horse and called, “Hello, the gate!”

  It was Veanni’s job to answer the hail. Blatten, the other evening guard, patrolled the outside of the wall, looking for unauthorized activity—either coming or going. Veanni took the lantern from the window and limped down the stairs to the postern gate. He opened the small door and leaned out. The gate creaked as it swung outward into the gathering dark. “Who goes there?” he called.

  The man swung down from his horse. “Hail, Iron Moor,” he called. “One of the legion has returned.”

  Veanni stepped out with the lantern and put his hand on his sword. “Come into the light, and identify yourself,” he commanded.

  The man stepped forward within range of the light and stopped. “Commander Gard Daxdendraig, master-at-arms . . .”

  “Well, Dax!” Veanni cried joyfully. “If we’d known you were coming, we would have had a parade. Old Renshau may still order one up if you are going to be here for a week or so. What great victories this time?”

  “Hello, Veanni. It’s good to be back.” Commander Dax clapped him on the shoulder in greeting. “Great victories? Must have missed that part. We mostly chased the rabble around.” He sounded weary.

  Veanni ducked back through the small gate. He undid the lock on the main gate and slid the heavy bar aside. The large barrier moved soundlessly on its well-kept hinges. Gate maintenance was a regular discipline sanction given to cadet miscreants. Commander Dax led his horse under the archway and helped Veanni secure the bar back in place.

  “You were out with Scarlet, right? You two always seem to stir up lots of action. Where is the little beggar anyway?”

  “If you listen to Scarlet’s tales, it’s all thunder and glory—at least as long as you are buying the drinks.” The commander smiled, and Veanni nodded knowingly “Scarlet said he was going on to Timberlake to see his mother. He’ll most likely be along in a couple of weeks.”

  “I’ll wager he’ll see his mother for an hour, then go off to see the girls of Timberlake for a week or so.” Veanni grinned.

  Commander Dax gestured to the bar that secured the gate. “Looks like you are buttoned up a little tighter than usual. Is there trouble?”

  “Not so’s you’d notice, but there were reports of some Ugori in the area. We had a couple of horses come up missing last week, and there were reports of trouble in the town.”

  The commander shook his head. “They can be bold as brass, but this is quite a ways west for them.”

  He shrugged. “They’re probably just passing through, but we’re shut up a little more than usual just in case.”

  Commander Dax waved toward the east. “Scarlet and I just came through the Verda Plains just south of Ugori territory. The countryside was empty. We saw no sign of anyone.”

  He had to smile. “Not to make too fine a point on it, but when you two travel together, you look like trouble on the hoof. Any Ugori raiding party’d give the two of you a wide berth.”

  “Wasn’t it your sister who took up with an Ugori?”

  Veanni nodded. “Sythia, my older sister. She went with Pa one summer to Hillsgate and met him there. Brackus is his name, and they’re married now. Six kids—quite a tribe.” He shook his head and smiled. “We went to visit them in Tallyford. Up in the Gemmick Hills, it is. They’re a rowdy bunch, but you gotta love ’em. They’re fightin’ fools, but they’d give you their only pair of shoes to help you.” He had another thought. “Hey, Vallic and a couple of the other officers were headed for a game of Double Tuck over at the bull room tonight. If you fancy a hand or two, I’m sure they’d let you play.”

  “Last time I sat in on one of their friendly little games, it cost me sixteen coppers. It would have been a silver if I hadn’t tossed it in on the last hand.”

  “Huh,” snorted Veanni. “Least you’ve got a silver to lose. If I didn’t have this bum leg, I’d like a go at being a mercenary. You can make good money doin’ that.”

/>   The commander nodded. “It pays well, but the price is high.”

  Now that made no sense, but Veanni shrugged it off. Commander Dax always seemed to have a lot on his mind. “Well, I won’t hold you up here.” He patted Dax’s horse. “Divic should still be at the stables to help you with your horse. Old Fanni Torran over at the dining hall may be in her nightgown, but she likes you. She’ll find you something to eat.”

  “Thank you, Tam. Good to see you again. Let’s catch up on stories when you’re off duty next.”

  “My stories?” he snorted. “Catching three students out after curfew skinny dipping—about as good as it gets around here. Rather hear yours.”

  “We’ll do it,” Dax nodded. “Good night, and good watch.” He led his horse down the causeway toward the stables.

  Veanni watched him go. He liked Commander Dax. The man was always friendly and went out of his way to talk with everyone. Yet there was something very reserved about the man. Intimidating too, especially when you looked him in the eye. Commandant Renshau was like that. Maybe it was because they were both dragon-bound?

  Well, whatever it was, he was on watch. The evening was still and quiet, and he headed back up to his post.

  Chapter 3

  Dax paused and looked at the familiar black outline of Iron Moor’s solid buildings against the darkening sky. Yes, this was home. A home filled with hustle and bustle, but a home of familiar structured ritual as well. For the first time in months, a small place deep inside him relaxed.

  By the time he got his horse stabled, it was full dark. The academy in the peace of the night hours was a quiet echo of its bustle during the day. Only two watch lanterns glowed along the broad walkway leading to the dining hall, but he knew the way. He enjoyed the familiar feel of the place. The dining hall was dark and quiet too, but a light glowed in a back office. He managed to get Fanni’s attention by rattling the door.