Tyrcamber had to admit he had never seen anything quite like it.
The sea narrowed into a bay, and an island filled most of that bay, guarding a large natural harbor. Small villages lined the shore of the harbor, and a long causeway led to the island. A wall of peculiar shining green stone encircled the entire island, studded with bastions and lined with battlements. The xiatami created that stone with their magic, and the jade-like stone was tough and resilient. If the Empire fell to its enemies, in a thousand years that wall would still be there, untouched and unchanged. Within the wall rose houses built of wood and stone in the style of the Empire, with a few pyramids of jade stone the xiatami had left behind. On the western end of the city rose a tall jade tower surrounded by a castle. The tower had once been the seat of the xiatami noble who had governed this northernmost outpost of their domain, and now was the seat of the Duke of Mourdrech. Tamisa was a strange city, though starkly beautiful as it sat outlined against the bay.
Yet it was obviously a city preparing for war. Tyrcamber spotted patrols of horsemen moving along the outer villages, and a guard of men-at-arms waited at the foot of the causeway. He saw more guards standing on the walls of the island city and manning the watchtowers of the villages. On the northern shore of the harbor rose hundreds of tents arranged in orderly lines.
The Duke of Mourdrech was calling his vassals together for war.
“Tamisa,” announced Sir Olivier, and he patted Thunder Cloud’s flank. “It would be a pleasant enough place to live. Hardly ever snows this far south. Of course, you’ve got the damned xiatami and desert goblins as neighbors.”
“I thought Knights of the Griffin never settled down, sir,” said Rudolf.
Olivier grinned at him. “The sky is my mistress, serjeant-captain.”
“I’ve never been here before,” said Tyrcamber. “Strange looking city, I’ll admit.”
“Really?” said Olivier. He looked startled. “Isn’t your sister the duchess?”
“She is,” said Tyrcamber.
“You’re estranged?” said Olivier. “Damn shame, that.”
“No,” said Tyrcamber. “I just saw her and my nephews last year at the Imperial capital. She accompanied her husband to the Imperial court, and I was in the city on business from the Master of our Order. She’d just had her second child a few months before.”
Olivier mulled that over. “Then you’re not…”
Tyrcamber sighed. He knew what Olivier was trying to ask. “I get along fine with my sister. I also get along with my father.” As well as anyone ever got along with Duke Chilmar Rigamond, anyway. “My sister and my father, however, are not friendly.”
“That must make for tense family gatherings,” said Olivier.
“Perhaps it is best to avoid such topics, sir,” said Rudolf.
Olivier snorted. “I’m a knight. You can’t talk to me like that.”
“He talks like that until you’ve agreed with what he’s already decided we should do,” said Tyrcamber.
Rudolf’s expression remained blandly pleasant. “A serjeant-captain must provide counsel to the knights of the Order.”
“And provide it you do, serjeant-captain,” said Tyrcamber. “Let’s head into the city. We’ll need to present ourselves to the Duke, and then to the preceptor of our chapterhouse.” He looked at Olivier and Thunder Cloud. “She won’t have any trouble in the city, will she?”
“No, Cloud’s been well trained,” said Olivier. “She won’t try to eat any pigs or dogs or small children.”
Nevertheless, Olivier did pause long enough to fit Thunder Cloud with a muzzle for her beak.
“I thought you said she was well-trained, sir,” said Rudolf.
Olivier grinned at him. “She is. But does not the church say we are to help our brothers and sisters avoid temptation? I think that applies to griffins as well. Besides, it would hardly uphold the honor of the Imperial Orders if Thunder Cloud eats some goodwife’s dog in the street.”
“Agreed,” said Tyrcamber. “And it looks like we’ll have a chance to uphold the honor of the Imperial Orders soon enough.” He pointed. “The Duke has sent someone out to meet us.” A party of horsemen had emerged from the island city and rode down the causeway towards the outer villages. The lead rider carried a lance adorned with the sigil of the House of Berengar, a stylized image of an armored boot crushing a serpent underfoot. “Best run up the banner, serjeant-captain.”
Rudolf gave the orders, and the column of serjeants formed themselves up. One of the mounted scouts lifted a lance adorned with the crimson banner of the Order of Embers. Tyrcamber rode at the front of the column, Rudolf on his left, the standardbearer riding on his right. He reined up at the edge of the causeway, and the column stopped behind him.
The twenty men who had issued from the island came to a stop as well. They were men-at-arms in the Duke’s colors of green and silver, and at their head rode a knight wearing plate and chain armor. The knight had dark eyes and a close-cropped red beard. Tyrcamber remained clean-shaven whenever possible, but he supposed a bushy beard like Sir Olivier’s would rapidly become uncomfortably hot in the heat of the deserts of Mourdrech.
“Welcome, men of the Order of Embers,” said the knight. “I am Sir Dietrich Normand, the castellan of Castle Berengar. In the name of Duke Faramund, I bid you welcome to Tamisa.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Tyrcamber. “I am Tyrcamber Rigamond, Knight of the Order of Embers, and the Master of our Order has sent us to reinforce our men here.” He gestured at Olivier and Thunder Cloud. “This is Sir Olivier of Falconberg, who assisted us when we were attacked by a goblin warband led by a xiatami Conciliator.”
Sir Dietrich frowned. “You were north of the city when you were attacked?”
“Aye,” said Tyrcamber. “Perhaps three or four hours’ march north of here. We were still in the deserts, though.”
“God and the saints, the damned snakemen are getting bold,” said Dietrich. “They think with the Valedictor stirring in the east, the southern border of the Empire will be undefended. They’ve never forgiven us for seizing Tamisa and the Mourdrech Desert during the Serpent War. Well, the Duke means to teach them a stern lesson. As soon as his vassals and reinforcements are gathered, he will march south and lay waste to their nearest strongholds. Even as we prepare to face the Valedictor, the xiatami will learn not to trifle with the Empire.”
“I have messages for the Duke from the Order of the Griffin, my lord,” said Olivier. “Master Erchwulf is sending aid to Tamisa. I should bring him this message at once.”
“And my men and I should speak with our preceptor immediately,” said Tyrcamber.
Dietrich nodded. “Your preceptor is currently meeting with the Duke in the courtyard of the castle. Sir knights, please accompany me to the castle, and I shall bring you to the Duke and the preceptor. They will be most eager to hear your news.”
“Very well,” said Tyrcamber. He turned to Rudolf. “Serjeant-captain, please see the men to our chapterhouse. You know the way?”
Rudolf nodded. “I’ve been to Tamisa before, sir. I imagine it hasn’t changed that much in the last few years.”
“Get everyone billeted, watered, and fed,” said Tyrcamber. “I will rejoin you after I have spoken with the Duke and the preceptor.”
“Sir,” said Rudolf.
“This way, sir knights,” said Dietrich, gesturing to his men. They turned their horses. “Ah…Sir Olivier. Your mighty beast will be…comfortable within Tamisa?”
“Thunder Cloud’s a good girl, sir,” said Olivier, patting the griffin’s neck. “So long as no one rushes her, she’s safe enough.”
“Very good,” said Dietrich.
They rode west along the causeway, heading for the city proper on its island, the serjeants marching behind. Tyrcamber looked around as they rode, the sea churning around the base of the causeway. Tamisa would be a hard city to conquer. In the event of a siege, the inhabitants of the villages lining the bay would withdraw int
o the jade walls. Tamisa could be resupplied from the sea, and taking it by storm would be difficult since a force would have to advance along the causeway, exposed to missile fire from the walls the entire time. The xiatami might have the strength to take the city, but it would take a large army reinforced by many warships. Even with much of the Empire’s attention turned towards the threat from the Valedictor in the east, Tyrcamber thought they were well-positioned to repulse the xiatami in the south.
That thought made him uneasy.
He had seen enough of war to know that any number of things could go wrong in countless unexpected ways.
The first hint that something might go wrong in an unexpected way came when he saw the heads mounted on spikes over Tamisa’s gate.
They had reached the end of the causeway, the jade wall rising before them. The gate was open, though men-at-arms stood guard and kept watch from the walls. Beyond the wall lay a market square, lined with shops and taverns.
Over the gate itself were seven human heads, mounted on iron spikes and smeared with tar.
“Traitors?” said Tyrcamber, voice quiet. During the centuries of the Empire’s history, sometimes men had been tempted to betray their comrades to the dark elves. The traditional punishment of traitors was beheading, with their heads mounted over the nearest gate as a warning to the others.
“Worse,” said Dietrich, voice grim. “Dragon Cultists.”
“The Dragon Cult is here in Tamisa?” said Tyrcamber, gazing at the heads without sympathy. He had survived a confrontation with the cult during the siege of Tongur. And if not for the cult’s interference in the battle, his friend Corswain Scuinar might still be alive.
“They were here,” said Dietrich, his voice grim. “We discovered a chapter of the cult lurking in one of the outer villages. They were planning to open the gates to the xiatami, thinking that in the carnage, many people would turn to the Malison in desperation and transform into dragons.” He gave an irritated shake of his head. “The mad fools. There can be no question of their guilt. We took them unawares in the middle of one of their vile ceremonies, and they were given the Test of Truth by a Knight of the Third Eye. Indeed, some of them boasted of their guilt openly, and tried to proselytize their vile creed during the trial.”
“It is good you found them, sir,” said Tyrcamber. “If the battle goes ill and Tamisa falls under siege, a chapter of the Dragon Cult might have worked great evil.”
“Even if the xiatami never come near Tamisa, they might still have tried to assassinate the Duke or poison the water reservoir,” said Rudolf. “The men of the Dragon Cult will refrain from no evil.”
For an instant, Tyrcamber wanted to ask if the Dragon Cultists had mentioned a creature called the Warden or spoken of a prophecy about five Heralds of Ruin. The Dragon Cultist that Tyrcamber had fought and killed in Tongur had spoken of such things, and Tyrcamber still wondered what it meant. But it was never wise to show too much interest in the Dragon Cult, and false accusations had happened in the past.
Besides, the Warden and the Heralds of Ruin likely had something to do with the Cult’s evil intentions to transform mankind into a race of dragon gods. Best not to think too deeply upon such things. Tyrcamber was simply a knight of the Order of Embers, not a Duke or a Count or a preceptor. He was a soldier, and his task was to ride and fight at the command of the Master of the Order of Embers.
Rudolf took the serjeants and headed for the Order’s chapterhouse, and Tyrcamber rode with Sir Dietrich and Sir Olivier and their escort through the streets of Tamisa. He looked around as they headed towards the Duke’s castle on the far side of the city. A peculiar mix of xiatami architecture and human buildings filled the island. Rather than knock down the xiatami buildings, the humans of the Frankish Empire had adapted the buildings for their own use. Houses had been built on the tiers of the jade pyramids, and watch towers stood on their apexes. Buildings of stone and wood lined the streets, inns and houses and workshops. Tamisa seemed like a prosperous city of the Empire, albeit one with occasional xiatami pyramids. It was hot here, and Tyrcamber suspected many of those houses would become sweltering in the summer, which was no doubt why they had been whitewashed.
They came to Castle Berengar, which had been built along the western wall of the city. The jade wall of the city had been worked into the castle’s curtain wall, which had been constructed of solid blocks of gray granite, no doubt moved and worked with the assistance of the Knights of Iron and the brotherhood of the stonemasons, all of whom were strong with the magic of elemental earth. The red banners of House Berengar flew from the drum tower of the central keep and the smaller towers, all of them showing the armored boot crushing a serpent’s head, and the ancient tower of the xiatami rose behind the keep like a jade spire.
Tyrcamber and Olivier followed Dietrich into the courtyard. A troop of men-at-arms drilled in the shadow of the keep, their commander bawling orders at them. Squires tended horses, and serving women hurried about their errands. Dietrich reined up, and Olivier brought Thunder Cloud to a halt. The griffin turned suspicious eyes towards the humans, who were wise enough to give the mighty beast ample room.
“You’ll want to attend to your mount at once, sir,” said Dietrich to Olivier. “We can put her in the north stables. There are no horses there at present, and she should find it restful.”
“Aye, castellan,” said Olivier. “I’ll tend to Thunder Cloud, then I’ll pay my respects to the Duke. I hope he doesn’t take offense that I need to see to Thunder Cloud first.”
“All men know that the Knights of the Griffin must look after their mounts,” said Dietrich. “We…”
“Sir Dietrich!” called a familiar voice. “What news?”
Tyrcamber turned and saw two men striding towards them, one short, one tall.
The shorter man was Faramund Berengar, Duke of Mourdrech, Lord of Tamisa, and Tyrcamber’s brother-in-law. He wore a fine cloak of xiatami silk in the colors of House Berengar, his steel armor polished to a gleam, his blond hair and mustache trimmed perfectly. He looked like a preening dandy of a man, the sort of fop that Tyrcamber had come to loathe. That was further proof that appearances were often deceiving. Duke Faramund was known as one of the best commanders in the Empire, and he had kept the xiatami at bay ever since he had inherited his father’s lands. He had even pushed his domain further south, carving off more land worked by the halfling slaves of the xiatami and giving the halflings their freedom in exchange for loyalty.
The man following the Duke was older and broader, with graying brown hair and beard. He wore the red surcoat of the Knight of the Order of Embers, with a gold torque around his arm as a badge of office. He would be the Order’s preceptor in the city, and Tyrcamber’s commander.
“My lord Duke,” said Dietrich, dropping from the saddle and bowing, and Tyrcamber followed suit. “May I present Sir Tyrcamber Rigamond of the Order of Embers and Sir Olivier of Falconberg of the Order of the Griffin? Sir Tyrcamber has come with a company of serjeants to reinforce our host, and Sir Olivier has messages from the Master of his Order.”
Faramund grinned and clapped Tyrcamber on the shoulder. “My wife’s favorite brother. Good to see you, sir.”
“And you, my lord,” said Tyrcamber, a little embarrassed.
“I had hoped they might send you, but the Order keeps its own counsel, as you well know,” said Faramund.
“The Imperial Orders answer only to the Emperor, my lord,” said the preceptor.
“Aye, and the xiatami answer to neither God nor the Emperor,” said Faramund. “If we don’t fight alongside each other, we’ll end on the xiatami altars together.” Tyrcamber hoped there would not be a conflict between the Duke and the preceptor. Such things had happened in the past, but the exchange had the air of a familiar argument between friends instead of true discord. “Sir Tyrcamber, this is Sir Rauldun Vanmar, the Order’s preceptor in the city. You’ll report to him.”
“My lord preceptor, an honor,” said Tyrcamber, and
Rauldun responded with a grave nod. His dark eyes seemed to weigh Tyrcamber.
“You have messages for me, sir?” said Faramund to Olivier.
“Aye, my lord,” said Olivier, reaching into his pack and produced a pair of sealed scrolls. “Letters from the Master of my Order. The details are set down upon the scrolls, but the Order is sending a force of griffins and stormhawks to assist in the campaign against the xiatami.”
“Splendid,” said Faramund. “The more knowledge we have against our enemy, the better. The xiatami sometimes manage to bind a captured dragon, or their priests will summon those damned winged serpents, but they’ve nothing to match our griffins for scouting.” He broke the seals on the scrolls, read over the contents, and nodded. “That is good news indeed. Though you had best tend to your mount, Sir Olivier. The way she’s glaring at me, I think she wants to take a bite out of my arm.”
Olivier laughed. “Thunder Cloud is friendly enough, my lord. After she’s been fed, of course. I’ll tend to her, and then I’ll take her over the water, have her eat a few fish.”
“We’ll put her in the north stable, my lord,” said Dietrich.
“Very good,” said Faramund, and Olivier led Thunder Cloud away, her reins in one hand, the dwarf-lance in the other. The Duke turned back to Tyrcamber. “I have to ride out with Sir Dietrich to inspect the outer camps. But I expect you and Sir Rauldun will join us for dinner in a few hours, Sir Tyrcamber.”
“It would be my honor, my lord,” said Tyrcamber, conscious of Rauldun’s eyes on him.
“Splendid,” said Faramund. “I am glad to hear it. I shall see you tonight. Meanwhile, I have camps to inspect, and you need to speak with your preceptor, I imagine.”
A squire brought Faramund a horse, and the Duke rode with his castellan, flanked by a half dozen men-at-arms. Tyrcamber and Rauldun watched as the Duke departed, and then Tyrcamber turned to face his preceptor.
“Sir,” said Tyrcamber. “I have arrived with the reinforcements. We departed Sinderost with a hundred serjeants, but I am afraid five of them fell in battle on the way here.”
Malison: Dragon Fury Page 4
