Shae’zar sighed. “That battle does not concern me.”
“It had best,” Neela said.
“Why?”
“With a foreign race occupying one of Aetheaon’s largest cities, Waxxon will ally with the darker powerful rulers. Vykings are nothing compared to what Tyrann will release from the Black Chasm.”
“What leads you to believe that Tyrann would even want to associate with Waxxon?” Shae’zar asked.
“Dominance. With enough troops, Tyrann can march his undead and Soulless Knights against township after township until his armies amass enough troops that even Legelarid will topple.”
“Are you a prophetess?” Shae’zar said with a smirk.
“No,” Neela replied coldly. Her eyes stabbed like ice and her jaw grew rigid. “But if your goal is to end Tyrann’s reign and power, the first step is to help take us back Hoffnung.”
“What has Waxxon done with Queen Taube since his takeover?”
“She’s dead.”
Shae’zar’s eyes widened momentarily. Tears moistened them, forcing her to look away. “Then who will rule?”
“Lady Dawn.”
“He didn’t kill her?”
“We don’t think he has ever found her, or otherwise she’d be dead. He’d have announced it if he had.”
“How can you be certain she’s still alive?”
Neela smiled softly. “Hope rides with the winds.”
“So you need armies.”
“Yes.”
“And right now, it seems that it’s just the two of us. Not much to set an attack on a city like Hoffnung.”
“There are others already united in this cause,” Neela said.
“I still don’t understand why you need me?”
Neela chewed her bottom lip for a moment. Anger flickered in her eyes. “The battle for Hoffnung won’t just be against Waxxon and the Vyking plunderers. Tyrann will most likely provide armies of his minions. That’s why we need you and any of your kinsmen that you can rally together. A few dozen should suffice.”
“For war?” Shae’zar asked. “They’ll never agree to that.”
“Not even if the cause is noble and worthy?”
“War never has those attributes.”
Neela released the ship’s wheel and turned her back on Shae’zar. “I had thought more of you than this. You disappoint us greatly.”
“Us? Whom exactly are you referring to?”
Neela ignored the question. She stepped closer to the edge of the small ship. “Have you ever controlled a ship?”
“No. I’d never have willingly boarded any water vessel. Not even this one had I been awake to protest it.”
Neela turned and smiled. “I figured as much. But you had to cross the water to get from Evenfar to Aetheaon’s mainland.”
“True. But not willingly.”
Neela stepped closer to the edge of the ship, climbed on the beam, and stared down at the water.
Shae’zar laughed. “What? You’re just going to abandon this tiny ship and leave it to my charge?”
“It’s a long swim to shore. Countless miles.”
“And for you, too. Do you really think this type of threat will make me reconsider my stance?”
Neela didn’t reply. She dove into the water.
Shae’zar looked stunned. She rushed to the side of the ship where Neela had dove and searched the water, unable to see any trace of the female warrior. Fear crept into Shae’zar because she didn’t know how to steer the ship, and even worse, she didn’t know which direction to attempt to guide it. If the direction she chose didn’t head toward the shore, she’d sail out into the deeper parts of the sea where she’d inevitably die without food and fresh water, or a sea monster of some sort might topple the ship, leaving her to drown.
Breathing suddenly became difficult. The rocking ship and thrashing waves increased her apprehension. Further out at sea lightning strikes danced within blackened clouds. A storm approached. Since she knew nothing about sailing a ship, her fate was sealed. Water surrounded her. She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to find her inner courage. Few things made her surrender to fear, but her fear of water always overtook her.
“Neela?” she asked, desperately searching the water. She stepped next to the beam, but she didn’t place her foot upon it. She clutched the railing and swallowed hard. Her heart thudded in her chest. Her body trembled. She backed away from the water, fearful that she’d lose balance and plunge into the choppy waves.
Giant bubbles surfaced around the ship, rocking the boat fiercely side-to-side.
What was happening?
Shae’zar ran to the ship’s wheel and gripped it tightly, not that she hoped to steer the ship, but she didn’t want to be tossed overboard by the sudden disturbance in the water. A belch of steam hissed out of the water and moments later a large midnight blue dragon broke through the water’s surface. The Pantheran stiffened with more fear than she had ever known.
The dragon beat her great wings until she rose above the water’s surface and hovered over the small ship. Her angered gaze bore down on Shae’zar.
Neela’s tone deepened, echoing from the dragon’s mouth as she said, “I can capsize this ship here and now, allowing you to drown in the angry sea, or I can set the ship on fire and see which you fear the most—death by fire or by drowning. Neither of these things suits me, but since you don’t view the importance of aiding our cause . . .”
Shae’zar dropped to her knees and bowed. “Is there time to reconsider my hasty objection to your offer to fight?”
“You flatly refused.”
Shae’zar swallowed hard. “You have remarkable persuasion skills, O’ Great One. Please forgive me.”
Neela stared into Shae’zar’s pleading eyes. Genuine fear and regret occupied those panther-like emerald discs.
“Seldom do I entertain second chances,” Neela said. “I’m not certain I should consider such now.”
The blue dragon took a deep breath and held it. Small puffs of smoke drifted from her nostrils. Her flapping wings filled the boat’s tiny sail, gently pushing it against the wind.
“Please,” Shae’zar said softly. “I beg you to reconsider and spare my life.”
“Then you will petition others of the Pantheran race to join our cause?”
“Most enthusiastically,” she replied.
Neela hovered over the ship’s deck for a few moments. She spoke draconic words and dropped to the deck in her human form.
Shae’zar remained on her knees, fearful of rising. She said, “I never knew a dragon could take human form.”
“Most folks don’t.”
“I imagine there’s more magical things that you can do?”
“Much more than your tiny imagination can fathom.”
“I’d be content getting my feet back on land,” Shae’zar said.
“In time, Shae.”
“May I ask one thing?”
Neela grabbed the wheel and nodded.
“The ‘us’ you keep mentioning . . . are you referring to an army or other dragons?”
“My two sisters.”
Shae’zar rose. “There are three of you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why not storm Hoffnung yourselves? Surely you could torch all of the Vykings and kill them effortlessly.”
“Indeed, we could, but our duty is not to totally destroy Hoffnung’s buildings. We cannot pinpoint our flames to simply strike individuals. All of the houses and shops would be engulfed by our flames and incinerated, killing the innocent as well as the guilty. We need ground forces to enter buildings and drive out the Vykings and those loyal to Waxxon. Fire holds no discretion. What point would it be to torch the entire occupants’ buildings inside Hoffnung and turn it over to a new young queen? After all, a queen needs a standing kingdom to rule.”
Shae’zar nodded. “I understand.”
“We need to build armies. It is essential that we find Lady Dawn and ensure that she is
protected at all costs. Then we grant to her what rightfully belongs to her. Her throne.”
“I will do everything I can to convince others in my tribe to aid in the battle to recapture Hoffnung. I can’t promise they will be persuaded.”
Neela stared at the Pantheran for a few moments before she replied, “Surely you can persuade some to help you. Otherwise, demonkin might overrun you. If Tyrann truly seeks your death, he will align his forces with enough demons and imps to tear you apart. In that situation, drowning in this sea or being burn to death by my fire would be more humane. Don’t you think?”
Shae’zar lowered her head. “I will try. I cannot force others to participate in something they might not believe in.”
“I thought your people sought to rid our realm of demons.”
“Only a small percentage of us are demon-hunters. Roughly one out of every hundred is born with tainted blood, which gives us immunity to demon poison. We’re such a modest population that perhaps a dozen of us exist that have this mutation. And those not gifted with the abnormality are as vulnerable as any other race. Some of my people have never even left our island and do not welcome outsiders to reside on the island. They shun any sort of change.”
“Tis true with most cultures, but if the Vyking invasion into Aetheaon remains successful, what’s to stop them from seeking the neighboring islands and spreading to other continents as well?”
Shae’zar nodded. “I agree with you. I will talk to Pan’zar, our elder about the pending dangers. She will not hesitate to help.”
“Good. Now, let’s hope we can reach Evenfar ahead of the nasty storm brewing on the horizon.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Bausch lay on the cavern floor while the campfire licked toward the ceiling. Although two dwarves stood watch near the Ratkin tunnels, he found himself wide-awake. He wanted to sleep, but his active mind prevented him from doing so.
He didn’t fear the Ratkin. They were the least of his worries. His mind focused upon Lez’minx and the blessing that Bausch had stolen for his armor. Had he committed theft by not seeking out the god and paying homage? He didn’t want to think so, but he feared the god might remove the blessing and strike him dead with a curse.
He watched the flickering shadows on the ceiling. After he and Lehrling searched Glacier Ridge for more of the Dragon Skull Knights, they’d return to Woodnog and set up a strategy to invite troops from Legelarid and Oculoth. While they awaited armies from neighboring towns and the major cities for the massive invasion, Bausch would head deep into the Woodnog swamps and find the cavern where Lez’minx’s temple was hidden and finally pay his belated homage to the god, provided the god would even accept it.
Resting his hands over his heart, he realized that he had never sworn his allegiance to any god or goddess, not even to the Three Goddesses of Hoffnung. He had attempted prayers with the goddesses but never felt any response. Of course, he wasn’t certain exactly what he was supposed to experience, either. The goddesses remained silent, but he did feel a slight urging from Lez’minx that he had never felt from any other deity. He guessed part of his internal strife came from his guilty conscious because he had taken the god’s gift without properly thanking him.
Lehrling’s snoring was harsh. Worse than normal. He also shook from the cold air that flowed through the passageway.
Bausch worried about Lehrling after his nasty fall had caused serious internal injuries. He didn’t like that they had left Icevale so quickly. Bausch actually sided with the medic in that Lehrling should take a few days of rest to heal before they headed out. They had not been gone a day, and already they were in bloody skirmishes with Ratkin.
Lehrling was a moral man who had taught Bausch a lot of important values, and the fear of losing his trainer pained Bausch. He had lost his parents during his youth, and now, if Lehrling died, he had no one left that he considered to be his family.
Bausch sat up, reached over, and pulled the heavy blanket over Lehrling’s chest. He stopped snoring for a moment, shook his head slightly, and then grunted before rolling to his other side. A few seconds later, the abrupt snoring continued.
Bausch sighed and lay back down, cupping his hands behind his head. His mind traced the steps back to the rainy swamp where the old blind seamstress lived. He chided himself for not following her directions to the Temple of Lez’minx. Why hadn’t he gone? He wondered. But he knew why.
Fear.
Fear of the unknown.
“But isn’t each tomorrow filled with the same unknown?” he whispered to himself. He shook his head and chuckled softly at his own foolishness. “After Glacier Ridge, I will find you Lez’minx. My apologies for waiting this long.”
Bausch closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, entering a world far darker than the cavern where they slept.
***
Sarey had to wait for Dawn’s wound to stop bleeding before she applied a fresh bandage over it. By the time she had patched the laceration, the sun was hidden behind the trees and dusk was settling in.
As she escorted Dawn from the bathhouse, the other peasant boys were eagerly rushing to wash the grime, sweat, and dirt off of their bodies.
Thomas limped toward Dawn, and once they made eye contact, the young man quickly looked to the ground.
“He seems fearful of you,” Sarey said with a broad smile. “I suppose his ego would drop even harder if he knew you were a young lady.”
Dawn frowned but didn’t reply. She adjusted the large bag over her shoulder to lessen the strain on her injury. Her stomach growled loudly, and her face reddened.
“We’ll get you some stew,” Sarey said. “Pig-Sty Tavern is just a few buildings away.”
“Thanks. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten that I no longer feel hungry in spite of my stomach’s pleading.”
Sarey smiled. “Once you smell the food, the urge to eat will overtake you.”
“And then I might not stop eating until I get sick.”
They passed a small shack where an elderly woman tended her flowers. The woman paused only to glance at them while they walked by.
The road was compacted dirt and clay without any type of masonry work to strengthen it. Dawn marveled at the simplicity of the hamlet. Other than the weary men and women that had worked the fields from early morning to late in the evening, the townspeople were quite content.
“What do you know about being a squire?” Sarey asked, once they were in a more isolated stretch of the road.
“Not much. I know that I should carry his weapons and keep his horse tended to. In return he will train me. Why?”
Sarey cleared her throat. “Sometimes, it’s a bit more . . . personal.”
Dawn frowned. “Like how?”
“If he gets injured you must tend to his wounds. Do you know much about that?”
“Not a lot, other than what you did to apply the salve to my back, which I was unable to see.”
“And, you must help him dress and undress,” Sarey said.
Dawn’s eyes widened.
Sarey smiled. “I thought that might get your attention.”
Dawn sighed and shook her head.
“You have a problem with that?” she asked.
“It is something that I must do if I wish to keep my identity hidden.”
“I can’t say that I don’t envy that part of your duties,” Sarey said softly.
“You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”
“A little. But my secret affections are for another patron that often visits the tavern.”
“Who?”
“His name is Bausch.”
Dawn grinned. “One of the other Dragon Knights?”
She nodded.
“Does he know?”
“He should. I’ve made my attraction known to him repeatedly.”
“And?”
Sarey gazed at the ground while they walked. Her eyes saddened as she searched for words. Finally, she said, “He apparently doesn’t feel the same.�
�
“How can you tell?”
“Well, until yesterday, he constantly stared into my eyes and couldn’t seem to keep his attention off me as I walked away. When I returned to their table, he had a sour mood toward me. He wouldn’t even look at me, and he seemed like I wasn’t good enough for him.”
“Any reason why his attitude changed so suddenly?”
“I think the older knight with him said something because Bausch hadn’t been that way when I first came to the table.”
“What would he have said?”
“I’m not sure,” Sarey said sadly. “He’s always been a friendly old man. Well mannered and sociable. Someone you’d like as a father or uncle.”
They paused on the roadway as a crowd of men slowed ahead of them.
Several of the older men placed pitchforks and scythes against the entranceway railing outside the tavern. Sweat matted their hair and beards. Bits of wheat straw and dirt clung to their wool shirts and pants. Their flimsy boots were ratty and probably smelled much worse than they looked. A couple of the men were stooped over and the wrinkles on their faces detailed the daily pain of the labor they had endured. They joked in low voices and when they smiled, in spite of their aches and pains, what teeth they had were rotten and black.
Dawn studied those older men and pitied them. Being protected in the castle, she had never viewed the common despair in the peasant folks’ eyes.
“They work hard,” Dawn said.
“From before sunrise and often late into the night,” Sarey replied. “Mead and stronger drinks help alleviate their aching muscles and numb their tired old minds.”
Sarey reached for the door handle, and Dawn quickly grabbed it. She pulled the door open. “I’m the servant,” Dawn said, whispering. “Don’t forget that.”
Sarey gave a modest nod, closing her eyes in relevance.
Caen sat at a corner table with a tall tankard resting between his muscled hands. His eyes focused on his drink, and he seemed oblivious of the other men in the tavern. The Vyking armor hung loosely on his seated frame. She hated that she had made him wear it instead of the Dragon Knight armor that he should be wearing. Once they settled for the night, she’d take the armor from the bag so he could wear it on the morrow.
Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension Page 22
