King's Dragon: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 2 Page 6

  “And those are words of wisdom.” Dax smiled and nodded in reply. “However, reading about the number of cattle grazing on the plains of East Landly and seeing them on the hoof reminds me how limited my imagination is.”

  #

  The next day, Dax and Scarlet led their horses to the gates of Falls Meadow. The city was small, but it had a proper gateway facing the main road. Stout wooden barrier gates hung from stone pillars on either side of the causeway, and they stood open in the afternoon sun. For a hundred feet to either side of the road, the wall’s builders had used undressed medium-size boulders—probably local fieldstone. Beyond the stone sections, the wall continued fortified by stout wooden planks. The fact their city wall had any stone spoke well for the prosperity of Falls Meadow.

  Frohliem City, capital of East Landly, lay another two days or so ahead, but Dax and Scarlet were hot and dusty. They had decided to sleep this night in a bed before moving on in the morning. “Well,” Scarlet said as they walked through the gates, “I’m imagining roasted beef, fresh cut from local livestock, along with a cold mug of ale.” He looked down the street. “Where do you suppose we will find this Itchy’s that the barkeeper in Tellenton recommended?”

  “If it’s as good as he said, it shouldn’t be hard to find someone who knows.”

  Indeed everyone in Falls Meadow knew Itchy’s Inn, and they located it without trouble. Little Itch, the proprietor and son of the late founder, Big Itch, found them a room and arranged stabling for their horses. Little Itch was a lively, talkative man who showed them to their room.

  With a few hours yet until supper, Dax and Scarlet decided to visit the local market. They had plenty of supplies, but Dax was interested in gossip about the kingdom. This close to Frohliem City, news was fresher and more detailed. Most of the talk they heard was speculation about a new tax King Kankasi was about to levy on each head over twenty in a rancher’s herd. Many dismissed it as mere gossip out of the palace, but one man had heard that a group of cattle farmers was already gathering signatures for a direct petition to the king to rescind the tax.

  They gathered more information that evening at the inn. All the important people in Falls Meadow patronized Itchy’s Inn, and Little Itch knew everything happening in his city. That evening at supper, he stopped by their table and entertained them with several stories about the locals. Everyone in the tales seemed to have one or two nicknames. Dax wondered, but Scarlet asked, “So, now that your father is gone, shouldn’t you be Big Itch?” The man’s balding head and lined face showed him well into his middle years.

  “Nah,” Little Itch replied. “M’dad was the big one, he was. Liked his own cookin’. Me now, I’ve been Little Itch for so long, there’s no way to change that. Once ya be named up, it wouldn’t do to change. Gets everybody confused.” Not that anyone could possibly be perplexed by the elaborate stock of names, nicknames, humorous tags, and personal appellations that were already in use in the town.

  Of Prince Ruprek there was current news in Falls Meadow. Dax was careful not to seem too interested, but a casual mention of the prince’s name garnered the fact that he had been in town two weeks earlier to attend the annual Falls Derby horse race. He had been accompanied by the beautiful Lady Aylssandra, a new name to Dax. He carefully filed the information away for use when they reached Frohliem City itself.

  Supper was good with plenty of beef and ale for Scarlet. Afterward, they sat out on the wide veranda at the inn and watched the sun set toward the western horizon. They were headed south to Frohliem City, but beyond that western horizon lay the Kakaras Crags, the Chammanie Valley, and, beyond that, West Landly. Lately Dax had been thinking more about the kingdom where he had been the titular king many years ago. This new assignment would take him back to Tazzelton, back to the castle itself. What would it feel like to walk those halls, not as king, but as a stranger? Surely some of the nobles or the heads of the great merchant houses he had met years ago would still be around. How many? He had grown and changed, but would any remember? Dax was supposed to advise Ras Carmodi during the negotiations, but Dax’s detailed and intimate knowledge of West Landly and its capital city was long stale, and it represented a child’s perspective. Perhaps he should go to Tazzelton and quietly look around before the official negotiating trip.

  “Who is she?” Scarlet interrupted.

  “What?” Dax was caught off guard by the question. “Who are you talking about?”

  “The sweet lass you’re thinking about. I know you’re from West Landly, and I’ll wager there’s at least one you left behind. Now you are thinking that you’ll look her up when we go back. No man sits there that long and that quiet without thinking about a woman.”

  Dax smiled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, old friend, but there’s no . . .” He found himself unable to continue. There was someone. “I was thinking I’ve been away so long there’s no way I can give good advice to Carmodi unless I go back to Tazzelton to scout around.” It sounded lame when he said it, but at least it was the truth. He sighed quietly to himself. Scarlet’s probing question had made him think of Anna for the first time in a long time.

  Scarlet gave a snort of contempt. “You lying, dragon-bound bastard. There is someone, and you just don’t want to tell me.”

  With an audible sigh this time, Dax slid down a little in his padded chair and put his hands behind his head. “You know me too well,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “Now we’re making progress. Behind that cold-as-mountain-stone front you put up as commander, there hides, dare I say it, a man of passion?” Scarlet snickered to himself at finally prying that much of an admission out of the man. “So what was her name?” he demanded.

  When Dax did not answer, Scarlet backed off a little. “I’m coming on too strong, aren’t I?” he said more quietly. “I would really like to know. I can see she’s important to you, so I promise I’ll keep my big mouth shut.”

  For several minutes Dax was silent, but then he quietly said, “Anna.” He had not uttered that her name aloud for, how long . . . ?

  Scarlet let it hang in the air for a time before he said, “Nice name.”

  Dax sat quietly a while longer. Finally he looked at Scarlet. “I met her on board a ship. I was, what? Twelve? Thirteen?”

  “Young,” Scarlet replied. He waited for Dax to continue.

  “She was maybe a year or two older—seemed like more.”

  Dax let his thoughts drift back to his terror-filled flight from Mathilde’s plot, his time on the streets of Tazzelton, his relief at finding his mentor Orin Herne. The voyage, which was supposed to be a journey to safety, had turned perilously ugly. But Anna herself had been a wonderment. Dax had been disguised as a young girl, but Anna had seen right through him. They had become such close and intimate friends in those few days. He had often thought of going back to Butterock Haven to try to find her, but he had never had the . . .

  His thoughts halted. Dax sighed and admitted to himself that he had never had the courage. He suddenly realized that he could no longer picture her face. He remembered short, bouncing, blond curls, but her face was no longer clear. The loss distressed him. He recalled her last name, Arendrag . . . No, that was not right. Arendrag was her uncle’s name. He was sure he had known her family name, but he could not recall it. Now he was doubly distressed.

  Scarlet was a good friend and trustworthy. Dax was mellow with memories and decided to tell him as much of the story as he could. His sentences were slow and halting, but he gradually sketched out the essence of his shipboard adventure. He had finished, but it was a long time before Scarlet said anything. Finally Scarlet cleared his throat. “I’d known you had a hard time of it before you got to Iron Moor, but I guess I never knew it was quite that bad. You were lucky.”

  There were many other parts to the story that Scarlet did not know. He realized his friend could not see his shrug in the gathering darkness, so he said, “I guess so. Being dragon-bound helped me get through it, although I didn’t rea
lize it at the time.”

  “So what was it about being dragon-bound that made the difference? About all I know is that you can talk with that big, fire-breathing friend of yours.”

  Dax smiled to himself. Scarlet was fishing for more information now that he had Dax talking about personal matters. His warm memories of Anna had put Dax in a mood to talk. “It changes us somehow. The dragon-bound are hard to kill or injure permanently. Six months after I got to Iron Moor, Bindle Treyhorn came to see me. You’d never know she had been beaten so badly she’d had seven broken bones just eight months before.

  “There’s also this dragon . . .” Dax paused while he thought about the word he wanted. “This dragon anger—a rage,” he continued, “that just boils up when we’re threatened. It’s frightening because you can lose control.” He stopped to take a deep breath and calm the twinges of memory that had stirred in response. “Believe me. You don’t want to be the target.”

  “I think I know what you’re talking about,” Scarlet said. “I’ve seen you in a fight, and you can be like Death on a fast horse sometimes. I’ve always wondered about that.”

  Dax did not reply, but he knew Scarlet had never seen true dragon anger on display. He thought back to what he had done to the man Weasel. That one night, years ago on the streets of Tazzelton, Weasel had tried to molest Dax. Dax had lost control. He could not remember the details of what had happened, but he had responded with a bloody viciousness he had not known he possessed. The incident had frightened him badly at the time. Now he knew his savagery had come from his bond with Kahshect. His anger was the ferocious, fiery anger of a feral dragon. It was a ferocity he had learned to control. At least, he hoped he had learned to control it.

  “So after this Anna, you just gave up on girls?” Scarlet pressed.

  Dax blinked at Scarlet’s change of topic and smiled. “Now you can’t tell me you haven’t heard rumors about the dragon-bound and sex.” His tone was lighthearted.

  “Why, no,” Scarlet replied with feigned innocence. “Who would be interested in sex?”

  “Well.” Dax lowered his voice to sound more serious. “The dragon-bound tend to mate like dragons.”

  “Ah, so it’s shagging in midair?”

  Dax laughed. “That would be a trick, wouldn’t it? No, dragon mating is, uh, vigorous. And prolonged.”

  “Prolonged?”

  “That’s how it was explained to me.”

  Scarlet leaned toward him. “So you’ve never done it!” he crowed.

  Embarrassed, Dax could not think how to reply. “It scares me,” he finally admitted. “I’ve heard stories that you can lose control just like in the dragon rage. What if I get carried away? What if I hurt someone?”

  “I’m betting she’d love it.” There was a leer in Scarlet’s voice, but he paused. “So you’ve been avoiding women all this time?”

  “I haven’t avoided them.” Dax hesitated. “I guess I just haven’t encouraged them.”

  Neither said anything for a time. Finally Scarlet said, “Thank you for telling me about, well, stuff tonight. We’ve been together a long time, but you sort of live inside yourself. I guess that’s because you had a rough time of it before you got to Iron Moor.”

  Dax nodded in the dark, but followed by saying aloud, “You’re right as usual. I’ve been on my own for so many years that it’s a habit.”

  “And it gives you that, mystique of command.” Scarlet chuckled.

  “Sometimes I think it’s more a mistake of command.” Dax heard Scarlet’s groan and imagined his friend’s grimace. The rest of their conversation was lighthearted banter that continued into the late hours before they headed to their room. Dax had nursed a single mug of ale for the whole evening, but Scarlet had drunk another two mugs of the excellent brew while they talked. It was very good ale.

  #

  A week before they were to meet Deputy Ambassador Carmodi, Dax and Scarlet rode through the great western gate of Frohliem City. It was the afternoon of their third day out of Falls Meadow. They had taken time on this last stretch of road to talk with other travelers when they had the chance. Dax had thought to find an inn for a day or two to get a feel for the city before they presented themselves at court. However, when the guard at the gate stepped out and asked Dax their names and business, his dragon bond forced him to reply, “Gard Daxdendraig and Scarlet from Iron Moor. We’re here to meet Deputy Ambassador Carmodi.” He looked at Scarlet and gave a little shrug.

  The guard brightened immediately. “Ah, gentlemen! I was told to expect you. You are to go right on to the palace.” He gestured toward the center of town where the tops of several towers were visible above the nearby rooftops. “Probably be best to go round to the north entrance where the stables are. Someone there will put you in touch with the deputy ambassador.”

  The guard’s instruction sounded simple, but there was no direct route to the palace. None of the streets ran for any distance in the right direction. Several times they started down what looked to be a main causeway, only to see it turn off and debouch in an open-air market or, once, a walled-off dead end. Fortunately the towers stayed in view to guide them while they navigated the twisting avenues. They made erratic progress until they emerged into a great open plaza surrounding the palace.

  Dax made a sweeping gesture with his hand at the large unobstructed area. “Ah, the Blue Plaza.” Just beyond was the palace itself. The upper floors of the palace were an architectural confection of towers and spires, but the lower levels were thick, solid walls with only narrow openings for archers. The frosting on top was decorative, but the palace was functional where it had to be.

  “The Blue Plaza?” Scarlet looked puzzled.

  “Blue-stone pavement.”

  Scarlet looked around at the iron-gray expanse. “If you say so.”

  Since most of the traffic in the plaza was on foot, they dismounted and led their horses toward the north gate. There were several landscaped patches of trees, grass, and shrubs scattered around the plaza. A great fountain stood in front of the western entrance.

  “Place is probably hot as a skillet when the sun’s out.” Scarlet observed. “I’ll bet that’s why there aren’t more merchants set up. I would think they’d flock to this open space.”

  Dax smiled slightly. “The king made it known a few years ago he didn’t like the rabble cluttering up his front yard.”

  Scarlet barked a laugh. “Oh, boy. This is your first job as a political advisor? That Renshau has quite the sense of humor, he does.”

  “We won’t be working with the king,” Dax reminded him. “I’m here to advise Carmodi. You’re here to advise me.”

  “It’s a good thing someone will be here to keep you out of trouble.”

  The north gate was open, but two guards stood on either side of the opening between the barbicans protecting the gate. They were dressed in highly polished armor with purple padding puffed out around the edges. Their helmets sported a crest of matching purple feathers. Although the effect was impressive, the gauge of the metal revealed in the fine detailing at the seams showed their armor was only ceremonial—no good in a fight.

  Scarlet leaned toward Dax and murmured, “Man likes his privacy, doesn’t he?”

  Dax did not acknowledge the comment, because the guard on the left had stepped forward. Dax nodded to the guard. “Commander Daxdendraig and Major Scarlet. We are to meet with Deputy Ambassador Carmodi.”

  “Yes, sir. Could I see some identification, please?”

  Dax looked at Scarlet. Although his face was blank, Dax suspected Scarlet was as put off by the procedure as he was. Evidently the general public was not welcome within the palace itself. Dax hid his annoyance and fumbled in the saddlebag for his waterproof packet of books and other documents. The copy of their contract should have enough detail in its description of the two men to identify them to the guard.

  He handed the paper to the guard and waited while the man scanned the document. Dax had a thought. Can he ev
en read? He waited, amused by his notion, but the guard evidently recognized Carmodi’s signature at the bottom. The guard snapped to a formal salute, and his companion followed suit. “Yes, sir, Commander. Go through the gate, and on the left you’ll see the stables. We will send word, and someone will meet you there.” He handed the contract back to Dax.

  Dax returned the salute and led the way through the gate to the stables.

  #

  Although he had not expected to be ushered directly into the royal presence when they arrived, it took three days before they even saw the deputy ambassador. Carmodi had sent a note the morning after they arrived asking them to remain in the suite of rooms they had been assigned in the palace, and, please, if they would, take their meals with the palace detachment of the East Landly Lancers.

  The lancers were East Landly’s equivalent of the West Landly Guard, but they were primarily mounted cavalry. From a professional standpoint, Dax and Scarlet found the group interesting. The two men had spent plenty of time in each other’s company on the road, and with their enforced idleness, they quickly grew frustrated by the lack of anything to do. Dax found the palace library, and Scarlet managed to stir up some friendly competition with a few of the lancers during their daily training drills.

  During his second day in the library, Dax was reading about King Kankasi’s great-grandfather King Ruprennal, the ruler who had subjugated the western tribes of the Ugori and made their lands part of East Landly. Dax looked up when his eye caught a flicker of motion. An attractive young woman had entered the library. She looked around, and her large eyes lingered on him. She approached the table where he sat. When she came closer, he reconsidered his earlier assessment. The woman was exquisitely, heartbreakingly beautiful. Her every motion showed how well she understood her beauty and the effect it had on any man who saw her. Dax rose to meet her and bowed in recognition of her evident social rank.