The D'Karon Apprentice (43 page)

He guided the bags that were drifting behind
him out into the center of the courtyard and let them drop. His
hands were shaking, and the hand clenched about the crystal was
white-knuckled with his grip.

“There are six men in the entryway. Are there
any others within the keep I might have missed?” he asked no one in
particular. When he spoke again, his voice was labored. “An answer,
ideally a swift one, would be much appreciated.”

“We’re the only ones inside,” said a voice
from within.

“Then I would vigorously encourage you to
leave, because I do not believe I have the strength to prevent the
collapse of the keep for much longer.”

A few seconds passed before the first of the
men ventured out. When he was not snapped in half by a dragon, the
others followed.

“Thank you,” Deacon said, lowering his arm
and sagging to the ground.

As soon as the glow in his gem faded to
nothing, a deafening roar of clattering stone and splintering wood
filled the courtyard. A cloud of dust and debris rushed up from
every door, window, and gap in the lower walls as the tallest
portions crumbled into themselves. The whole structure slumped into
the ground, with the exterior wall falling last.

The final rumble and clatter of stone and
wood settled into silence, with all eyes looking to the pile of
rubble that less than a minute prior had been a tall and proud
stronghold. The eyes then turned to the one person who seemed to
have her wits about her, Myranda.

“If anyone is hurt, bring them to the
infirmary. Deacon and I can tend to your wounds. When we are
certain that no one is in danger any longer, we will address what
has happened and what is to be done about it.”

By the time the assorted injuries had been tended to,
the punishing sun had begun to slide from the sky, leaving the
now-homeless soldiers to shelter in the long shadows cast by the
defensive walls. Wisely, much of the food for the keep had been
stored against the wall in a sequence of long, low storage crates,
no doubt in order to ease the difficulty of loading and unloading.
The water came from an exceedingly deep well, so there would be
plenty to drink. The firewood and lamp oil was also stored
separately in the courtyard, so the most immediate consequence for
the collapse was a lack of shelter. Though it would make for an
uncomfortably cold night, it would only really be a concern during
the worst heat of the day to follow, and for that there was time to
prepare.

Myranda wiped her hands and stepped out into
the light. The worst of the injuries had been the commander’s own,
and though he certainly would have preferred to suffer through them
rather than even ask to receive treatment at the hands of either
Myranda or Deacon, the duchess had taken it upon herself to mend
the worst of his injuries and gently pushed him into a deep healing
sleep that should take care of the rest before morning.

“Was anyone else hurt?” Myranda asked,
looking about at the Tresson troops.

“The two men struck by Garr’s tail were in
rough shape,” Deacon said. “But I’ve seen to them. How are the
soldiers we treated upon our arrival?”

“Sleeping comfortably. In a day or two they
should be fully recovered as well.”

For the first time since the walls of the
keep had begun to shake, Myranda took a moment to appreciate all
that had happened, and the significant results thereof. Though not
told to do so, the soldiers had all dropped their weapons before
taking to the shelter of the outer wall. Their expressions covered
the range from barely masked fury to utter terror. Garr had settled
onto his haunches, eyes locked on the infirmary tent that held the
commander. The tenseness of combat had yet to leave his muscles. At
a glance one could imagine the beast snapping back into a rampage
at the slightest provocation. Myn, on the other hand, was quite at
ease. She hopped to her feet and snatched up the remains of two
enormous birds, trotting happily to Myranda and dropping them at
the wizard’s feet.

“Yes, Myn. They’re lovely. But where did you
get them? We
did
tell you to stay inside, didn’t we?”
Myranda said, scratching vigorously at Myn’s offered brow.

The dragon gave a quick glance to her Tresson
counterpart by way of an answer and rumbled with a purr of
contentment at the attention she was receiving.

Myranda turned to Garr. “You have our
thanks.”

Garr ignored the comment, far too intent on
glaring at the tent. His gaze was locked precisely where the
commander was resting inside, despite the fact he couldn’t possibly
know where the man had been placed. Myranda wondered what mix of
senses allowed it. When Myn’s stomach gurgled loudly, she set the
thought aside.

“Myn, have you eaten at all?” she asked. “For
heaven’s sake, as much as I appreciate you bringing me a meal,
don’t forget to take your own share first. You’ve been doing far
hungrier work than I.”

The dragon pulled her head reluctantly away
and snatched one of the birds, gulping it down with zeal before
padding off toward the collapsed stable to drag over a burning
timber.

While Myn assembled what soon became clear
was a fair approximation of a cooking fire, Grustim stepped up to
Myranda.

“I must say, I would have expected the two of
you to be more shaken by the collapse. I was concerned you’d be
killed.”

Myranda looked briefly at the pile of rubble.
“It’s nothing we haven’t had to deal with before. It is
embarrassing how often, in fact.”

“Indeed,” said Deacon brightly as he stepped
to Myranda’s side. “Our friend Ivy has pointed out we’ve seen
almost every building that’s ever held us crumble to the ground.
It’s something of a tradition at this point.”

“Not the best habit to get into,” Myranda
said.

“Nevertheless, I must offer my profound
apologies for the danger I placed you in. Without orders, he can be
single-minded. It is a great relief that his thirst for vengeance
didn’t claim your lives.”

“Myn can be the same way,” Myranda said. “The
two are quite alike.”

“What happens to Garr now?” Deacon asked. “If
I understand correctly, he is no longer your mount. And thus, I
suppose, you are no longer a Dragon Rider.”

“That is up to him. He is free now, and as
such he may choose his own way. I’ve once before had to relieve him
of his duty, and he saw fit to renew his oath to me. It is my hope
he shall do so again. If not… a Dragon Rider’s life is a difficult
one. It would be a lie to say I do not dream from time to time of
being rid of it. But not until I’m through with this mission.”

“Yes,” Myranda said, stepping to the packs
that Deacon had gathered. “The mission.”

She opened one of the packs and revealed a
knife and some pots and pans.

Deacon looked to the rubble once more. “As
diplomatic ventures go, this hasn’t been a marked success thus
far.”

“Did you find anything that you can share?
Are we any closer to understanding who is responsible and how to
stop them?” Myranda asked.

“Mostly what I learned was that Brustuum was
lying. How much of what he said was a lie remains to be seen. But I
have my suspicions,” Grustim said.

Myranda began to prepare the desert bird to
be cooked while Deacon found his book and stylus and made ready to
record.

“Please, share them,” Deacon said.

Grustim closed his eyes to gather his
thoughts. “Brustuum… he claimed to have had the woman for only a
few days. I suspect it was far longer. Even if it was just a few
days, he’d violated protocol by not sending word of her discovery.
He was holding her here in secret. I don’t know what he had planned
for her, but rather than keeping his men on hand, he sent them out…
they’ll be returning before long. It will be telling when they do.
Either they were off performing desert drills, in which case they
will be carrying light or training weapons, or they were sent
searching for the woman he had already found, in which case they
will be heavily armed.”

“We shall have many questions for him when he
awakes,” Myranda said.

“Did he say anything of any magic she worked
while she was here?” Deacon asked.

“Just that she escaped with two windows she
opened through magic,” Grustim said.

“That much fits… but I saw some…
things
. They were human. At least, they
had
been
human. In the lower level cells.”

“What do you mean?”

“Husks of men. Drained of life. They were the
work of a necromancer, I’m sure of that,” Deacon said.

“How many?”

Deacon shut his eyes to remember the scene.
“Eight in one cell, seven in another. I’m not certain if there were
more. I was in a rather significant rush at the time.”

“Fifteen total. Those would be the
prisoners,” Grustim said. “What would be the result of rendering
men into such a state?”

“Those men would be her thralls, servants to
her will. And a necromancer can gather a significant amount of
mystic energy by draining life in such a way,” Deacon said.

“Enough to mount an escape as she had?”

“That would depend upon her level of training
and discipline. But it should certainly get her close, in any
case,” Deacon explained.

Myranda set a portion of the meat over the
flames to cook and joined the discussion. “How quickly could
someone be drained in that way, Deacon? Is it possible she quickly
sapped enough strength to escape while the guards were
unaware?”

“It is possible, I suppose, but surely it
would have done her more good to sap the guards themselves. Unless
those still outside the walls are better equipped, I don’t detect
any enchantment that could have protected them. Though… is it
possible she
did
attack some guards and we didn’t find
them?”

“He lost five guards. We know that much. If
he’d lost more, he would have eagerly expressed his outrage at
their loss as well.”

“Well perhaps those five who were killed were
drained.”

“No. There are five fresh graves beyond the
east wall. A Tresson, even a deceitful and traitorous one like
Brustuum, would never commit a body tainted by magic into the
earth. Our dead are offerings to the Great Ones. It would be an
insult to knowingly offer a work of dark magic to them. That is why
the prisoners were not buried, I’m quite certain. The unclean are
to be burned, and there is no evidence of a pyre.” His face
hardened. “He’s had plenty of time to burn them… And there are no
other graves… He was
hiding
them… Just as he was hiding so
much else.”

“I don’t understand it… We will simply have
to ask when he awakes and hope he is reasonable enough to answer,”
Deacon said.

“I’m through appealing to reason,” Grustim
said, suddenly stepping toward the infirmary. “Can you wake
him?”

“He needs at least half a day to heal,”
Myranda said.

“If his mind is sound, or at least he can
understand my questions and I can understand his answers, then the
more broken the rest of him, the better it suits my purposes.”

Myranda stepped in front of him. “What are
you planning?” she asked firmly.

“If Brustuum was hiding those prisoners, then
either he could not protect them and was seeking to hide his
failure, or he had plans for them. At best he is a fool undeserving
of his rank, and at worst he allowed or encouraged a hostile mystic
to commit abominations of gods and men upon them. In either case it
is now clear that it is my duty, and also my pleasure, to do
whatever it takes to find the root of his treachery.”

“It looks and sounds to me that what you have
in mind is torture.”

“I will have my answers through whatever
means he renders necessary.”

“I cannot abide such cruelty,” Myranda
said.

“Then I suggest you turn away,” he said,
stepping past her.

She reached out to catch his arm. “There has
to be a better way.”

Garr, for the first time since Myranda had
stepped out, let his gaze slide from the infirmary. His potent
stare now locked on Myranda. More specifically, it locked on her
hand, where it touched Grustim’s arm. The creature did not look on
with anger or threat. He simply made it clear that he was now
watching.

Grustim pulled his arm roughly from her grasp
and turned to her. “Listen to me, Duchess. You have a firm hand but
a soft heart. That is a fine mix for a woman charged with mending a
broken world, but in times of war sometimes a heart of stone is the
only one that will do. You say that you and others like you
defeated the D’Karon within your own borders, and from what I’ve
seen, you certainly have the ability. But if you were able to see
your way through to the many unpleasant things that needed to be
done, I must believe that there was at least one among your number
who would do those things that a soft heart could not abide.”

“… There was.”

“And would you have found your way to this
peace you seek to protect if not for those distasteful acts?”

“Perhaps not.”

“Then turn away and let the deed be
done.”

“But he is your countryman. You relinquished
your mount rather than raise a weapon to him before,” Deacon
said.

“What I’ve seen and what I believe are enough
to convince me he is undeserving of further consideration.” The
Dragon Rider turned toward the men huddled against the wall and
addressed them in their native tongue. “I have reason to believe
your commander allowed your prisoner—a Northerner by birth, if the
account is to be believed—to work dark magics upon prisoners of
Tresson blood. Can any of you confirm or deny this?”

The soldiers stirred and murmured a bit but
gave no indication that there was any certainty.

“Seven soldiers were injured, five of them
killed. With the commander, that makes for an eight-man guard. Am I
correct to assume that all of the men injured or killed were a
personal guard of the commander’s own selection?”