The Dragonstone (64 page)

Egil turned back to the man.
[“We need horses. Cattle, too.”]

The ‘keep’s eyes flew wide, wider than they had when he had first seen the Dylvana, wider than they had when he’d seen this strange, golden Warrior Maid.
[“Ye dunt plan on goin’ there, anow, d’ ye? Up into Raudhrskal’s domain.”]

[“We do. Yet we’ll allow no others to accompany us.”]

[“’N’ j’st who d’ ye think’d be th’ bluidy fool ‘r fools who’d want t’ go wi’ ye, anow?”]

*   *   *

At dawn of the third day after arriving at Hafen, Arin and her companions set out from the port town. A gathering of citizenry watched as these strangers—four males and three females, seven fools altogether—embarked for Dragons’ Roost.

That one there, he be th’ one-eyed Fjordlander, a raider, no doubt. Aye, but don’t ye find it passin’ strange that
there be
two
one-eyed men among them seven, th’ old one wi’ a regular evil eye, I’d say; but he be in his cups most o’ th’ time. Did ye hear that sweet-voiced bard sing, ‘n’ why do he be along? T’ sing t’ th’ Drake, d’ ye suppose? That big man there, he probably be a warrior, ‘n’ some tell they seen ‘im lying flat on th’ stones ‘n’ praying at Elwydd’s shrine. Ha! As if prayin’ t’ Elwydd belike t’ save ‘im fra th’ Drake. That one woman, th’ one wi’ th’ daggers—I heard she be a Gothonian. Ar, but th’ other one, th’ yellow warrior maid, what land d’ ye think she be fra, eh? That Elf, a Dylvana, no less, I’d say she be a sorceress o’ great power. ‘N’ they be all headed f’r Dragons’ Roost, ‘n’ why d’ ye think that be? Did ye see all o’ them ropes ‘n’ stuff what they took wi’ ’em on th’ pack mules? T’ get th’ treasure, no doubt: th’ bard t’ sing ‘im t’ sleep; th’ old man t’ give ‘im th’ evil eye; th’ sorcerous Dylvana t’ charm th’ Drake; th’ yellow warrior maid t’ cut ‘im up wi’ her magic swords; th’ other three t’ carry th’ gold ‘n’ jools. But it’ll fail, what e’re their plan be: cattle ‘r no, magic ‘r no, swords ‘r no, th’ Drake Raudhrskal’ll j’st burn ’em up wi’ ‘is fire ‘n’ be done wi’ it….

And thus went the mutter of conversation as seven fools rode out on seven Jordian steeds, driving four head of cattle before them and trailing three laden packmules behind.

*   *   *

“Alos,” said Arin, “thou didst not need come with us, but could have stayed in Hafen instead.”

Alos shivered as he stared at the white peak ahead, but in a monotone he said, “Unlike before, I’ll not desert my shipmates in their time of need.”

“Hmm,” mused Ferret. “You’ve said that heretofore, Alos…several times, in fact. Tell me, was there a day when you
did
desert your shipmates?”

The oldster looked at her, then glanced across at Arin. The Dylvana smiled. Alos ducked his head, ashamed. “It was in the Boreal,” he muttered.

“What?” said Ferret. “I did not hear you.”

Alos took a deep breath. “It was in the Boreal,” he repeated.

“What was in the Boreal?”

Alos again looked at Arin, his one-eyed gaze pleading, for he had told no one of his cowardice past.

Arin guided her horse next to his. “Thou dost need not speak of aught if it pains thee. Even so, I deem it weighs thee down, yet burdens become lighter when shared.”

Tears welled in Alos’s gaze. “It was in the Boreal. The Black Mage Durlok and his Trolls boarded my ship, the
Solstråle,
and took all prisoner…all but me. I hid in the bilge. Durlok sunk the ship.”

“Ah,” said Ferret, “now I recall you said something to that effect in Ordrune’s gaol.”

“And you hid in the bilge,” said Aiko, her voice flat.

“I can’t help it,” said Alos, his chin trembling. “It’s the way I am.”

Aiko continued to look at him impassively.

Alos could not meet her gaze. “You yourself said that the first rule of life is to live. —Yes, I deserted my shipmates, but at least I’m alive.”

Aiko shrugged slightly. “Is it a life worth living?”

Arin frowned at Aiko, then said to Alos, “But this time, my friend, and unlike before, thou art with us, thy shipmates, in our time of need.”

Alos looked south toward Dragons’ Roost looming up in the morning light, his breath wheezing in and out of his gasping lungs, and then he nodded his head and groaned.

*   *   *

Driving the cattle was a laggardly task, for the stolid animals plodded slowly across the grass on the verge of the vast prairie stretching beyond sight to the east, while to the west rolled endless waves across the deeps of the Boreal Sea. South bore the seven companions, south for the flanks of Dragons’ Roost some forty miles away, and at the pace they set, it would take the better part of three days to reach the distant slopes.

All day they rode, plodding along, Alos alternately weeping and drinking from one of the flagons of brandy he had slipped into his saddle bags. The sun rode up into the sky and over and down, shedding some warmth in the early spring, the winds yet chill and blowing inland from the brine of the Boreal nearby.

Now and again they would stop along the plentiful
streams to let the animals take on water. Too, they would occasionally pause to feed the horses and mules some grain, and at those times the cattle would graze, the thick grasses now greening with the coming spring. Grass and horses and cattle: these were the riches of Jord, the broad realm itself nought but a vast, lush plain.

As twilight fell they made camp in a coppice, somewhat out of the wind. They had come some twelve or thirteen miles from Hafen, the town just over the horizon behind. In the night they stood watches in turn, all but Alos, that is, for he slept under the influence of brandy and quivered and moaned in his sleep.

As on every night, near mid of night, Aiko on watch felt the presence of peril, peril at a distance. And unseen high in the sky above,
something
slid across the stars, taking care to avoid being silhouetted against the waning gibbous moon.

*   *   *

That night a bleak mist swirled in from the Boreal Sea, turning all dark. The next day found Arin and her band wending slowly southward across the dreary ’scape toward a now obscured goal. Urged forward by the riders, the cattle plodded onward in the still land, moving at their laggardly pace. And although the day brightened as the veiled sun swung up into the drab sky, the coiling fog lingered, chilling flesh to the bone.

Alos shivered and blubbered and drank from a second flask. And even though he couldn’t see the oncoming mountain, he wept copious tears and swore he would not desert his shipmates in their time of need.

There was no twilight, the gloom merely growing darker with the sinking of the sun, though the mist remained palely luminous from the waning moon beyond. Once again they made camp, this time in a dank swale, the sward wet through and through from the fog. Having no wood they made no fire, and took a cold supper of jerky and tack and water.

As before they stood turns at guard, again excepting Alos, for the old man was beyond redemption in his fear and cried himself to sleep.

*   *   *

Near mid of night Aiko’s tiger again whispered of peril, yet it was a peril that grew and grew. Hastily she awakened the others, hissing, “Something wicked comes.”

In the faintly luminous mist, hooded lanterns were lit and made ready for battle, though their light was kept shut for the nonce. And weapons were taken in hand: Egil with his axe, Aiko and Burel and Delon with swords, Ferret with her daggers, and even though Arin loosened her long-knife in its scabbard, she readied her bow, though it was unlikely she would make use of it, for the chill fog yet swirled and coiled ’round. And they stood back to back in a small circle and waited, Alos in the center meeping tiny moans, ready to bolt.

Still the peril grew and grew, and of a sudden something monstrous swept overhead and bellowed an earsplitting roar—
RRRAAAAWWW!
—the comrades all flinching down in the thunderous blare.

The bellow was met by a harsh skreigh, as something screeched high above.

“Waugh!”
shrieked Alos, and he threw his blanket over his head and groveled down against the earth.

The others peered upward, yet they could see nought in the dark swirling mist above, but they could hear a mighty swashing, as of huge pinions churning air.

The horses and mules screamed in fear and jerked against tethers staked in the ground, some to get free and gallop away in the dim fog, staves and tethers bouncing behind. The cattle, too, bellowed, and pulled up their own anchors and fled.

RRRAAAAWWWW!
came another roar.

Grrrakkk!
screeched an answer.

Of a sudden there was a violent blast, and the swirling mist flared red, as if a great gout of fire bloomed above. Again came roars and skreighs and the flap of vast wings, and again the mist above glared red. And now the skreighs dwindled, yet remained overhead, as if whatever
thing
made such shrieks flew higher into the sky.

“What do you—?” began Ferret, but her voice was drowned out by harsh shrieks and a maddened bellowing, and the fog overhead was backlit with furious flames, and moments later there came the sounds of rending, and then
something thudded to the ground nearby, and then something else, and again and again, as if huge things were falling from the sky, unseen in the night of pale mist.

Then there came one last vast roar, and a great blooming of fire…and the flap of leathery wings heading south.

And as the sound dwindled, so, too, did all peril, or so a red tiger claimed.

A
board the dhow, mortar and pestle in hand, the dark Mage Ordrune stopped crushing an admixture of black and green crystals and looked up from the arcane blend.

Ah, as anticipated, my fell beast is dead.

Splendid! For it means those fools are nearing their goal.

He hissed a command, and the tongueless Drik leapt up from his station inside the door and raced away topside. Shortly a Ghok came groveling inward.

“Turn east and ready my Hèlsteeds and chariot,” commanded Ordrune in Slûk.

The Ghok paused a moment, waiting to see if there were more his master would demand. Yet when Ordrune turned back to his mortar, the Ghok scrambled out and away, shouting his own harsh commands as he gained topside.

In moments there came the sound of rope pulleys in blocks and the whipcrack of canvas in wind, and the dhow heeled over to begin cleaving a new wake across the cold, cold brine.

A
don!” exclaimed Delon. “Look at this.”

The others moved toward the bard, misty halos blooming about their lanterns in the fog.

“What
is
it?” asked Ferret, bending down. “A great leather cloak?”

“No, luv. This is no cloak, but part of a wing, I believe.”

Ferret sucked in her breath and drew back.

“Wing?” quavered Alos, stepping back as well, then peering over his shoulder as if seeking monsters in the pale night mist. “Wing from what?”

Arin squatted down and touched the leathery membrane. “A fell beast from the elder days, I would imagine. Slain by Raudhrskal.”

“Is that what it was, the fight in the sky?” asked Alos, his eye wide with fright.

Arin nodded. “The beast encroached upon the Dragon’s domain and was slain for its trespass.”

Alos threw back his shoulders and glared at Ferret and said, “See! I
told
you they could sense intruders.”

Ferret took a deep breath and said, “If that’s true, then it means Raudhrskal can sense us.”

The air puffed out of Alos; his triumphant glare collapsed. His face fell and he uttered a small,
“Oo.”

Aiko, squatting on her heels next to Arin, stood. “I think we’ll find no more steeds in the dark. The two back at the camp will have to do for rounding up the others in the dawn.”

Arin also stood. “As soon as the fog lifts, we’ll look. It’s not as if the animals can hide from us in this grassland.”

Alos looked at Arin beseechingly. “Perhaps we should go back to town and wait until the Dragon gets past his rage. I mean, it would not do to approach him when he’s upset, now would it?”

Arin just shook her head, but Egil said, “We are yet two days away from Dragons’ Roost, Alos. More than enough time for him to settle.”

“We don’t know that, Egil,” protested Alos, wringing his hands. “It seems to me that a Dragon might hold a grudge a very long time.”

Burel looked at the oldster. “And why would the Dragon be vexed with us?”

“Well, we’re intruders, for one thing, trespassers,” replied Alos, wiping his brow. “And for another thing, perhaps the beast he slew was after us, and that’s why it was in his domain.”

Aiko’s eyes widened, and she touched her breasts where the tiger lay. “Perhaps,
ningen toshi totta,
you have struck upon something. Perhaps the fell creature is what my tiger sensed in the dead of nights past.”

“But why would he be following us, my love?” asked Burel.

Aiko shook her head. “Who knows the mind of such a beast?” she replied.

“Nevertheless,” said Arin, “whether we led the creature here or no, we will press on for Dragons’ Roost as soon as we recover our animals.”

At these words, Alos groaned.

*   *   *

The wind from the Boreal shredded the fog and the sun overhead burned the remnants away by midmorn. Aiko and Arin rode the two remaining steeds and rounded up missing horses and mules and cattle, all found placidly munching grass on the open plains.

As they again resumed their journey, they rode past the severed head of the fell beast, its leathery neck torn in twain as if by mighty claws, its glaring yellow eyes now glazed over and dull, its long, fang-filled beak silenced forever.

“Adon,” breathed Delon. “Raudhrskal must have ripped the beast apart.”

Egil nodded, then said, “Can you imagine how powerful this beast must have been? Look at the size of that beak, and think on its wing as well. And for a creature as powerful as that, think how much mightier a Dragon must be to rend it asunder.”