(Dragonkin) Dragon Rider (4 page)

   "Menimeth is my name, and I am pleased to meet you, but we should get out of the rain for the night and dry ourselves as best as we can I think. It would not do to survive an ambush, only to die from fever. Would you agree?"

   "You are right about that," Kyler said. "I will go and look at the old guard post, these men must have a camp somewhere close by."

   Menimeth retrieved his bow and cloak from the trees, and set about stripping the bandits of their weapons and armor. They may have been somewhat dirty, and their cloths worn, but their weapons and armor were oiled and clean, and in good condition. Feran and Javen helped drag the bodies to the side of the road across from the guard post, and covered them with ground sheets. The horses of the outlaws were in a brush corral behind the building, and off to one side. Menimeth led Donner and the other horses there, after the saddles and gear were removed. There were more than enough supplies and wood to last for weeks in the Guard post and the storeroom in back, as well as the loot and personal possessions that the bandits had acquired.

   Kyler had a fire going, and was cooking supper when the others came in from the rain. Menimeth gave them the weapons and armor he had removed from the highwaymen, and sat down to eat the meal Kyler offered him. His own armor was far better than any of the ones the bandits had worn, and the swords he carried were of Elvin make, forged long ago. The swords were a matching set, forged by Elvin magic before the Great War of the old empire, and given to him by an elf named Loren after saving his life. Kyler, Feran and Javen, however, had no armor at all, and their swords were notched and worn.

   "Pick out something that will fit well, and use it from now on." Menimeth said to the three men. "The weight could take some getting used to, but in time you will grow to feel like it is a part of you."

   Kyler helped bury the dead the next morning, in a clearing that was behind the corral, and he was wearing his new armor as he worked to get the feel of it.

   "Menimeth had been right." He thought. "The armor would take some getting used to."

   The weight on his shoulders did not hinder him, and it fit well enough to allow him to move around freely and unencumbered. Javen on the other hand was having a harder time than the rest adjusting to his. He was the smallest of the group, and the weight was a burden on him as he worked, but he tried not to show it.

   Menimeth dug the graves early that morning before the others woke. He was the one that killed them, so he should be the one to do most of the work in burying them, or at least that was the way he felt about it. When the graves were finished and ready for their occupants, he returned to the old guard post, and set about preparing their breakfast. After they had eaten, and while the men from Alenvale were busy with their tasks, Menimeth inspected the possessions of the highwaymen. Inside a bag on the floor in the storeroom, he found a chest full of gold coins, along with several bags of gold and silver jewelry. One thousand gold coins were what he counted, and he wondered where they came from. This kind of money was not collected on the road by bandits, here, or anywhere else. This had to be blood money of some kind, unless he missed his guess, but for whom. Not these three surely, for they were just poor farmers sons, and the amount was too great for someone of such standing. They would not be poor any longer he thought, as he counted out three hundred coins, and put them in a pouch for each man. The money would go to good use, and he was sure they needed it badly for their village. He separated the jewelry into three piles of equal size and value, keeping only a circlet with a large blue stone in the middle for himself, as well as one hundred of the gold pieces. He placed the jewelry in pouches, and tied them and the coin purses together. Everything else he placed in bags to be loaded on the extra horses they now had.

   When the dead had been buried, and the horses were loaded with all that they were taking with them east, Menimeth handed each man a bag of gold and jewelry in turn, and said.

   "Keep these out of sight, and do not carry more than a few gold pieces on you at a time."

   Kyler, Feran, and Javen, took the pouches Menimeth gave them, and looked inside them. Inside was more money than any of them had ever seen before, and they sat there staring at the gold coins.

   "What is this for?" Kyler asked, taking his eyes from the bag in his hand.

   "Because they do not need it any longer." Menimeth said, raising his hand, and pointing to the newly dug graves.

" You got this from them?" Javen asked.

   "From the loot in the storeroom." Menimeth replied, as he mounted Donner, and turned him east. "I will take one of the horses that we acquired from the bandits, and you can split the rest among yourselves, as well as the loot."

   Menimeth led the way as the four men rode from the crossroads that morning. This was the first time in more than a year that he was not alone on his journey, and he was sure that he was now in the land of his ancestors. Kiler rode beside him as they made their way east, and talked about his home in the south, as well as the fair. Menimeth learned a lot about this new land from him, and he liked the man more and more each day. It was just passed noon of their third day together, when they reached the Grayling River, and the stone bridge that crossed it. Menimeth had never seen anything so grand as the bridge across the river. It was wide enough for wagons to pass with ease, and two stone dragons sat guarding the entrance at both ends.

   It was late in the evening when the rain ended, on the day before they reached the bridge. The clouds had moved on during the night to the south, and the sun rose bright and warm, for the first time in many days. The river was swollen to its banks from the rain, so the four men decided to make camp early, and cross the river the next day, giving it time to recede. There was enough dry wood for another night on one of the packhorses, and they would not need it anymore after crossing the river. There were towns along the way in which to stay the night from here to Argnon and beyond, and they had enough money now to pay for it.

   Menimeth began instructing his new friends as they traveled, how to best use their weapons and armor when in a fight. Going through the drills they were taught, and improving with each passing day, the men soon became comfortable with their new weapons. They practiced each night as they camped along the way, as well as during the day when they stopped to rest the horses. It was a good time to step up their training Menimeth thought, and began to teach the men his way of fighting.

   Menimeth spent the rest of the day where they camped by the river, teaching Kyler to use the bow, and how not to be seen. Feran and Javen looked more at ease in their new armor now, and fought each other in mock battles several times during the afternoon. They had learned more in the last three days from Menimeth, than they ever did in their village, and all three men no longer worried about the fair, or the army.

   That night as they sat by the fire and ate, they talked about the towns they would see along the way. The empire they said, had suffered greatly since the Great War so long ago. Dragon riders had ruled the land in the time before the rise of Arnoran, and had driven him back into the sea in the Great War. His armies were destroyed in the final battle, and in a rage at his loss, Arnoran used dark and evil magic to strike back at his foes. The dragon riders disappeared, along with most of the armies of the empire in a blinding flash of light, and the lands of the evil mage king became barren and desolate. They were now known as the ruined lands, and were dangerous, and in some places deadly to cross. There were no more dragons or riders left to rule the Great Empire, or protect it from its foes. The lesser wars, which came after the fall of Arnoran, brought the empire to its knees, depleting its resources as well as its coffers, and causing the empire to split into pieces. It was now called the Great Empire, but in the time of the regents, it continued to decline as trade dwindled, and in some areas, disappeared all together.

   The town of Rivervale offered food and drink for the weary travelers, as well as a room for the night. Menimeth sat with his back to the wall at a table in the corner of the Grayling tavern, and with his companions around him, ate roasted meats and seasoned cheeses, washing it down with ale. Kyler had stayed here with his father in the past, and was known by the tavern owner, so he paid for everything to arouse less suspicion. They would reach Argnon the day after tomorrow, and there, Menimeth would say goodbye to his new friends. The voice in his mind called to him always, and he drew closer to it every day, but he now knew it came to him, as well.

   The feeling came over Menimeth just seconds before the three men entered the tavern. Kyler sat beside him still, but Javen and Feran had gone up to their rooms for the night. Only one other patron was in the establishment, and he sat by the fire drinking ale from a goblet. The leader confronted the lone patron from across the table, as the other two men went to either side of, and behind him.

   "I thought I told you not to come back in here." The man said with an evil grin. "Rylee and Dralin are still mad about the drink you spilled on them."

   "I have as much right as any one to be here." The patron replied, setting down his goblet. "And it was your friends that spilled the goblet, not I."

   "He thinks he's better than us boss." Dralin said, sneering.

   "Yeah Grif, he sure does." Rylee added, smiling at his boss

   "Does he now?" Grif asked. "The way I see it, you owe me several goblets of ale, so we will take your coin purse before you leave."

   "Pay for your own ale, and shut your mouth." Menimeth said, sipping his ale slowly. "We want to drink in peace, and quiet."

   Turning his head and looking at Menimeth, Grif said.

   "I will get to you in a minuet stranger, and we will see about your smart mouth then."

   "Why not get to me now." Menimeth said, removing his cloak as he stood, and drawing out one of his Elvin swords.

   The look on Rylee's face at the sight of the golden dragon on Menimeth's breastplate went unnoticed by the others. He moved from the corner where he stood by the fireplace, stopping behind his boss. With a snarl on his face, Grif rushed Menimeth swinging his sword at his head, while Dralin moved around him to attack from the side. Dralin was the first to go down, wounded, but not dead. He was out of the fight, and Kyler stood over him with a blade to his throat. Grif was not as lucky, and lay dead on the floor at Menimeth's feet seconds later. Rylee was gone. Slipping out the door during the fight, he mounted his horse, and disappeared into the night. The lone patron, which had been the target of Grif and his accomplices, stood and finished his ale looking down at the dead man at the warrior's feet. All of the citizens in the towns and villages along the great road feared Grif. He was a killer and a thief, who prayed on the weak, but he was also the best fighter in the western lands. Who was this warrior in dragon armor that he could kill such a man so easily? He would have to learn more about this man, he thought.

   "Thank you for your help sir. My name is Semeon, and I am in your debt." The man said, before turning, and walking out the door.

   "Don't worry about them," the tavern owner said. "I will clean up this mess."

   "You may keep whatever they have on them for your trouble, and we will leave you to it." Menimeth said, following Kyler up the stairs, and to their rooms.

   The next morning as they rode from town, the people watched them go while talking to one another in quiet tones. News had spread quickly about the death of Grif, and in the other towns along the way they received the same treatment. When they reached Argnon it was the night before the fair was to begin. Men were camped all around the town, and the fair grounds as well, as they waited for the competition to begin the following morning. Menimeth and the men from Alenvale were searching for a place to camp for the night, when a frightened boy approached them.

   "My master sent me to get you," he said. "There is a room for you at the Red Falcon, and he would like for you to stay at his inn. It is the only room in town, and it is the best we have."

   The boy turned, and without waiting for an answer, headed down the road to the inn. Menimeth and his companions followed the boy to the Red Falcon, and the room that awaited them there. Tomorrow his plans would change, and he would be set on a path that would change the Great Empire forever, he just did not know it.

Chapter Four

   The shadows were growing long when the beast awoke. He raised his head and looked around the small cave that he was in, senses alert for any danger that might be present. There was a small stream of water, which came out of the wall, and landed in a pool across the cave from him. He watched as the bubbles floated across the pool, then disappeared under the rocks on the other side. There was something in the back of his mind, a shadow of a thought, or was it a voice. He could not tell for sure, but he would think about it later. Right now he was hungry, and the hunger was consuming his thoughts. It was passed time for him to feed, and there were grazing animals in the clearing below, he could smell them. He liked the fat little deer that he found here, they were easy to catch, and good to eat. His mind was filled with the thought of the tasty meat, and fresh blood just waiting there, as he arose from his bed, and walked to the pool. Drinking deeply, he turned and walked to the opening of the cave, stretched his wings, and leaped into the air. He would grab a buck in each front claw, eat his fill, and then he would think about the voice in his mind, he was sure now, it was a voice.

   After he gorged himself on the deer, and had rolled in the grass by the lake, he thought about the voice as it called to him. He was beginning to become aware of the magic that flowed through him, and the memories of the dragons that came before him as well. As he thought about the voice it came to him. It was his master calling, and he knew his name now, he had always known his name. They were born at the same time, and on the same day, and each had a part of the other inside him.

   Danorathin had reached his full size now, and was the biggest dragon ever to take to the skies. His deep bronze color was the first of its kind, and he was one third again, bigger than the brown dragons of the old empire. The brown dragon and his rider led the smaller, Tan, and gray dragons that made up the bulk of the squadrons of the Great Dragon Empire, into battle. The dragon and his rider stayed together always, dying at the same time when the dragon grew too old. Only when one dragon died was another born, and the riders were magically linked from birth to their dragons, living far beyond the lives of ordinary men.

   He took one last roll in the grass before launching into the air, gaining altitude with each stroke of his mighty wings. No dragon had died to make way for him in the world, as was the way of dragons, even though they always made sure their population stayed constant, to keep the flow of magic in check. The last five hundred years without dragons had caused the magic of the land to warp, and twist. The dark side of magic had a power all its own, but the evil of the spell Arnoran had used caused a rift in the flow of magic, and created the warp. Not until the evil of that spell was undone, would the land where it was cast be restored. The flow of magic was everywhere, and in everything that existed, but it was the dragon that held it in check. Without the dragon, the flow of magic would warp and twist, until it could no longer exist, and then all things magical would no longer be in the world of man. Several of the races in the lands were tied to magic, as well as many plants and animals. Magic was in the grass, and in the trees, and in the stones. It was in the water, and in the air, and in the very land around them, but most of all, it was in the dragon.

   The spell Arnoran used, captured the remains of the armies of the Great Dragon Empire, and the dragon's riders as well as their dragons, and froze them in that moment in time. With the dragons gone but not dead, the power, that the spell required, put Arnoran in a magical slumber instead of killing him. The balance of magic was changed, and in the end, Danorathin was born to reverse the changes created by the dragon's absence, along with another.

   Flying higher, and circling the lake as he gained altitude, Danorathin took one last look at the mountain and the cave that was his home since birth. The time had come to leave the hatching ground behind, and make the journey into the land of his master. Though he had never been out of the mountains and valleys of the ancient lands of his kind, he knew the land of his master was where he belonged. They were born to bring a balance back to the flow of magic, and to return the land to its people. Both man and dragon were created by magic, and were not like the rest of their kind.

   Danorathin was larger than any other dragon ever born in their ancient lands, and carried the traits of all of the other dragons that came before him. All of the magical abilities that each one possessed were concentrated in him and his master, and they were unlike any of their kind. His master was of the race of man, and was the first one ever to be born with magic abilities. Unlike mage's who must study the ancient knowledge to learn magic, and are limited in what they can learn by its availability, his master was born with the magic inside of him, and only needed Danorathin to have it at his command.

   The sky had a deep blue hue, and the sun was warm on his back as he flew. The valleys below were filled with trees, and offered a place for the dragon to rest when he needed it. Outside of the hatching grounds, more game was available to him, and he took advantage of the opportunity to gain the extra weight. There would be a few times when only farmlands would be below him, and game would be scarce there. The domestic stock of men was not very good to a dragon, and they would not eat them for any reason. It was not the way of a dragon to harm people, or their homes, and avoided their lands whenever they could.

   Danorathin chose to fly through the mountain valleys, only as long as they allowed him to travel southwest. He knew Arnoran was awake again, and using magic to try to regain his former power. He also knew the mage king was aware he existed, and was on his way to find his rider. The mage king himself had warned Danorathin of the danger to come, when he used magic to communicate with his Servants and his armies. Soldiers of Arnoran were in the old empire, and he needed to get to his master before anything could happen to him.

*****

   Litlorn traveled the road south out of the Elvin Kingdoms, through the pass of Dem'loran, and into the Great Empire. When he was a boy this had been known as 'The Great Dragon Empire', but that was a long time ago, and now he was a man and the dragon riders of old were gone. He traveled to Argnon to find Menimeth as his father had told him, but he went willingly. He now understood what was happening, and would have gone even if he had not been sent. He carried gifts from his father to be given to the warrior and his companions before they departed Argnon, and one gift he supplied himself.

   His father Loran, had collaborated with a curious dwarf named Donderan during the time he grew up, and they worked in secret in the forges for many years. The results of that effort, and all those years, were in the bags loaded on the packhorse behind him. The Great North Road began at the end of the pass of Dem'loran, and traversed the empire to the Purple Mountains in the south. In the days of his youth it was still safe to travel the roads of the empire, but now it was not. Litlorn traveled among the trees far enough off the road to avoid highwaymen, but not so far that he missed the towns along the way. He knew from his father that the man he sought, would be in Argnon when he arrived, and would need his help.

   During the night of the first full moon, and two weeks and four days into the Western Empire, he saw the men moving west through the wilds. Sleeping in the treetops as he usually did when in the wilds, he woke to see them in the distance. They were not from this land, and it was obvious, by the way they traveled. Men who used the wilds, avoided the places that were consistently difficult to cross, but these did not. In fact, they seemed to choose the hardest way through the thickest part of the wilds in which to travel. There were too many small groups going the same way to be natural for men, but they were spaced far enough apart to go unnoticed by any one other than an elf, or a dragon.

   He wanted to see what they were doing here, and where they were going, but did not have the time to investigate. He would wait until he reached Argnon, and relay the information to whoever may think it of interest. Litlorn had been to Argnon before, but only once, since the dragons disappeared, and not for more than one hundred years. The lives of men were very short compared to Elves, and he never knew what to expect when he came to their lands. The dwarf's however, lived almost as long as the Elves.

   He visited Kraudgov under the Purple Mountains several times since his childhood, and each time that he traveled across the lands of men, new towns were where no town was in the past, and towns they once visited, were no longer there. The land grew wilder, and there were fewer people each time he came here, but this time it was almost empty for the lands of men. These groups that traveled at night had no women with them, as far as he could see, and he could see no sign of them during the day from the treetops, or any hill he came across, and he thought it odd.

   Three nights of watching as they made their way west, gave him time to study the mystery further. On the fourth night however, he could see them no longer. He did not believe the groups of men no longer traveled, but that they only used the wilder northern part of the Great Empire. Elves could see farther than all of the other races, but even they could only see so far.

   Menimeth would know what this mystery was about, though he was not raised in this land, he knew the ways of evil men from his years of chasing Chidren. Litlorn's father had told him everything about the warrior that he knew, and he received news of him often. For the longest time, he did not understand why his father showed so much interest in someone from the race of man, because they lived such short lives, and worked so hard while they lived, that it seemed that they burned themselves up too fast. All their work appeared to be for nothing to the other races, because nothing of it remained for very long after they were gone. Not since the dragon riders and their stone castles, did the works of man survive more than one or two hundred years.

   Two months had passed since he had seen the men in the wilds, and he was much farther south now. Argnon was no more than a few days away, and Litlorn needed time to prepare the gifts he was too present to the men he was sent to find. A small stream flowed lazily by as Litlorn rode beside it, until he found what he was looking for. The stream wound its way through the countryside, sometimes turning back on itself as it flowed. The place he found was where a bend had been created in the stream by a hill that stood in its path. There was a glade in the bend with a very large oak tree in the center, and smaller oaks were around it. A waterfall had formed at the base of the hill that caused the stream to change its course, and it dropped three feet into a pool, before moving on. Litlorn rode to the base of the large tree, and unloaded the packhorse. He removed the saddle from the one he rode before moving them to the grass that was close to the water, and cast a spell to hide his camp, and then built a fire.

   After his supper was eaten, and everything was cleaned and put away, he worked at his task until it was complete. Everything was separated and wrapped in silk, then tied with spun gold thread. It had rained a few weeks before, and the stream was still full from the water it produced. He had filled his water skins from the waterfall and placed them on a branch just above the ground, to cool better during the night. He did not worry about his camp because of the spell he placed on it, but no one could have crept up on him anyway. It was late when all was completed to his satisfaction, and he climbed the tree to sleep.

   The next morning Litlorn changed from his worn traveling cloths, and after bathing in the stream, he dressed in Elvin silks, and his best leather boots. From here on he would take the road west to Argnon, and he would travel like the prince he was. The royal house of his father, and of his father's father, must be acknowledged and shown every courtesy.

   The morning was still and quiet when Litlorn rode into Argnon, and then to the fairgrounds beside the castle. There were men camped all around the town and castle, and the sun would not be up for close to two more hours, but he had not expected to find so many here when he arrived. With this new development, a vantage point from the trees would offer him time observe, and plan his unannounced arrival.

   The horses were hobbled near plenty of grass, and close to water, before Litlorn cast the spell to hide them. He would retrieve them later if all went well, and he would just get them and leave if it were not. The gray of morning barely illuminated the land around him when he spotted the warrior. He walked from the town in the direction of the castle, and to the garrison's gates. Had he not met the man when he accompanied his father to the borders of their kingdom, after Menimeth had saved his life, he would have known him anywhere. Though he wore a cloak, it was obvious he was a warrior, and different from the other men that now moved about the grounds. Litlorn watched as the warrior walked the fairgrounds and studied them, before returning to the gates of the garrison. As the doors to the garrison opened, and the captain of the guard exited along with his men, Litlorn decided to stay where he was and watch.

   When the day's events were over, and the men who had competed in it were leaving the grounds, the prince of the western realm of the Great Elvin Kingdoms pulled his hood down over his head, and walked from the trees. The dragon of gold, which shined in the sunlight, was his objective, and he walked to the man who wore it. He did not know it then, but events were unfolding that would affect all of the races in the lands of magic. The struggle for power and control of the race of man, would decide the fate of all of the other races, and magic itself. The man he had come to find, would become his friend as well as his companion, and would remain so. Another Great War was beginning, and his part in it had just begun.

*****

Semeon went to his room in the inn, and searched through the scrolls he carried with him when he was away from Brinden. There was something about the warrior that killed Grif, which captured his attention. An old legend from a time almost forgotten, referred to a lone warrior who would begin the new age. It was a very old parchment, and he only kept certain copies of parts of the scroll with him.