Two men tossed darts at a crude target on the wall. One of the men was much larger than the other, but both held near identical facial features. Brothers, no doubt.
Joss, the fat barkeep, rubbed the polished bar with a ratty rag. The vigor that he used while cleaning the bar informed patrons that his mood was more dangerous and less predictable than a bolt of lightning.
His bald crown was red from his building fury. Long silver hair hung down his back, which matched the color of the scruff of hair on his chin. When the tavern door closed, he stopped wiping and glared toward the door.
“Sarey!” Joss shouted from behind the bar. Anger and frustration flared in his hazel eyes.
“Father?”
“Where’ve you been? You expect your old man to labor all day, alone?”
“No, father,” she replied meekly. Her hardened exterior suddenly seemed small like a child.
Joss held up two tankards and nodded toward Caen’s table. She hurried to the bar and grabbed them.
“Has he eaten?” Sarey asked.
“No,” Joss replied sternly. “He’s been waiting for his squire to return so they can eat together. Where’ve you been?”
“The squire has a nasty wound right in the center of . . . he-his back. I was cleaning it out but it took a while to bandage it because it was still bleeding. There was no possible way for him to reach it, and I didn’t want infection to set in.”
Joss nodded. His eyes softened slightly. “I see.”
Dawn took a seat at Caen’s table. Caen’s brooding eyes never left his tankard. He was perturbed, and Sarey wondered if it were due to hunger or for her causing Dawn’s injury to become worse.
“Take the drinks to him and his squire. Then, get them bread and stew, as much as they care to eat. With Aetheaon under attack, taking care of our knights, especially the Dragon Skull Knights, is our top priority.”
“Yes, father. I know that. His squire is a part of him. That’s why I wanted to insure his welfare, too.”
Joss sighed and nodded. “That’s true, my dear. Sorry for being so gruff, but I can’t tend to the bar and all the tables, too. I’m a tad too old for that.”
“Sorry father.”
“And I’m nowhere nearly as attractive as you, so I got no tips.” Joss winked and forced a tired smile. “Let him know that the best room upstairs is reserved for them for as along as they be needing it.”
“I’ll tell him.”
She took the tankards to the table. Dawn sat across the table from Caen. Sarey set the drinks down. Her eyes met Caen’s angry gaze.
“What kept you so long?” he asked in a low tone.
Sarey looked down, careful not to make eye contact, and held her breath for a moment. Without looking up, she replied, “That stable master left a nasty gash down your squire’s back. I made certain I thoroughly cleaned it so infection didn’t set in.”
“I see.”
“I’m sorry that I challenged your squire to fight in the pit. Had I known of he . . . his injury, I never would have done so. Please forgive me.”
Caen shrugged. “You weren’t aware, but you have seen his courage and determination. Fighting with such pain shows the true heart of what he’ll one day become.”
“Yes. I agree. I’ll be back with some food.”
Sarey glanced at Dawn. Dawn smiled slightly.
A few moments later she brought two large wooden bowls and a stale loaf. Steam rose off the rabbit stew. Dawn and Caen immediately started eating.
Caen chewed the rabbit meat, swallowed, and said, “That’s very good.”
Sarey beamed a smile and did a slight curtsey.
“It is,” Dawn agreed.
“We need a room for the night,” Caen said. “We’ll be heading out at first light.”
Sarey chewed her lower lip for a moment and then she said, “You can’t. Leave, that is.”
“Why not?”
“Donne’s injury needs dressed each day until it has healed.”
“We don’t have time for that.”
Sarey said, “The less he moves, the better the wound will heal without any infection setting in.”
“I can dress it.”
“No!” Sarey said.
Dawn frowned at her, and Caen’s eyebrows rose as he glanced at Sarey in surprise.
“Sorry,” Sarey whispered. She waved her hands in a pleading manner. “No. Let me tend it. I have experience working with the healing elders in Esgrove. They have taught me how to properly dress a wound. Do you have such experience?”
Caen studied her for several long seconds. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Do you not value Donne’s service as a squire?”
Caen smiled evenly. “I do.”
“You’ve been in the heat of battle before, haven’t you?” Sarey asked.
“Yes.”
“And have you seen those that have died due to serious infections setting up in their limbs?”
Caen nodded.
“Then I plead with you to stay a couple of more days. My father has insisted you have the best room for as long as you need. At no cost, of course. If you insist that Donne carry your weapons and belongings from town to town, you might lose him to infection. He’ll die.”
Caen glanced at Dawn. “And how do you feel about staying here?”
“By staying another day or so, I could watch more weapon training,” Dawn replied in a meek tone. “That would help me see both proper and improper techniques.”
“It would, actually,” Sarey said, smiling at Caen. Her over eagerness was beginning to annoy Dawn and might actually make Caen become suspicious since Sarey was no longer acting like a seasoned hunter. Her pleading was something she had not shown since their meeting.
Dawn decided to play along, hoping that Caen didn’t notice the drastic change in Sarey. “You could show me what they’re doing wrong and what is the correct way. At least I’d have a visual, even if I can’t brandish a blade yet.”
“Very well,” Caen said. “But where will we stay? Which room?”
Sarey smiled and nervously cupped her hands together. “Our best room is upstairs. My father has it reserved for you and your squire for as long as you need at no charge.”
Caen made eye contact with Joss. He lifted his tankard toward the barkeep and gave an appreciated nod. Joss smiled and nodded back.
The two brothers throwing darts stopped their game and pressed closer to Caen’s table. Several of the seated older men also had their attention on the Caen while they drank.
The biggest dart thrower was missing his left eye. A long thick scar ran down the same cheek. He was a heavy man but seemed to be a hard worker and possibly in his younger days, he had been a powerful warrior. The shorter man was more muscular with a yellow beard and bright blue eyes. His forehead, eyes, and nose were almost identical to his taller brother.
“I see you wear the pendant of the Dragon Skull Knights but not the armor. Are you a knight of Hoffnung’s former king and queen?” the man asked.
Caen nodded. “I am.”
“What news of Hoffnung have ye since Waxxon overthrew Aetheaon’s beloved Queen Taube?”
“Be warned,” Caen replied. “Since Esgrove is the closest hamlet to Hoffnung, the Vykings might possibly raid here first.”
“Then they’ll meet their deaths,” the man said, placing his muscled hand on his sword. “I’m Kaleb, son of Orlon.”
Caen studied him for several moments, trying to place the name.
“You know not of me?” Kaleb asked.
Caen shook his head. “Sorry, no.”
Half insulted, Kaleb struck his chest with his right fist. “I fought alongside King Erik against the Dredgemen demonkin. Tis how I lost me eye. How is it that you don’t know me?”
Caen gave a tight even smile and said, “I commend you for your courageousness, but your valor was not ever told to me.”
“Or any of your other knights?” Kaleb asked with a sad expression.
Kaleb shook his head. “I was with him during the final attack.”
Dawn’s eyes widened. “The one where King Erik died?”
“Aye, the same.”
Sarey gazed at Dawn and firmly shook her head because she didn’t know these two men. They weren’t from Esgrove.
With pleading eyes, Dawn tipped her head and pointed with her eyes toward Kaleb. Sarey took the gestures that Dawn wanted additional information about what had transpired on the day of her father’s death.
Sarey said, “Our King’s body was never found. How is it that you were with him and no one knows what became of King Erik’s body?”
Caen’s eyes narrowed with keen interest. “Good question.”
“I don’t know.”
“How could you not know?” Caen asked.
“A horde of spiny demons stripped him of his weapons and dragged him away. I killed two of the demons, but then one lashed my face with one of its claws. I don’t recall what happened afterwards.”
“It’s doubtful they’d let you live,” Caen said.
“You accuse me of lying?” Kaleb asked with anger rising in his voice. His dart partner stepped beside him and crossed his thick muscled arms.
Caen shrugged. “Just seems odd that you would survive with your life when our King died. At least, it’s all we’ve ever been able to assume because we don’t have his body.”
“Where are you from, Kaleb?” Sarey asked. “I’ve not seen you in Pig-Sty Tavern before or Esgrove, for that matter.”
Kaleb turned his attention from Caen and frowned at Sarey. Caen remained seated, but his hand moved to the dagger on his belt.
“Woman, who are you to question me?”
“She’s my daughter,” Joss said, aiming a crossbow at Kaleb’s head. “You might consider answering her question rather quickly, as your answer holds great importance to all of us in Esgrove.”
Kaleb’s shoulders sagged. “My apologies.”
“Apologize later,” Sarey said. “Tell us where you are from.”
“I gave my name and my father’s,” he replied.
“Which is useless information to us,” Caen said, “since we don’t know who Orlon is.”
Kaleb sighed. “We are knights from Legelarid. Father and I were in Hoffnung when King Erik set off to battle. Eegrubb was, too. We joined King Erik’s troops to fight those demonkin.”
Caen rose from his chair. “Legelarid?”
“Yes.”
“And who is this with you?” Sarey asked.
“My brother and also a knight, Sir Eegrubb.”
Tavern patrons seemed uneasy at having the two knights of Legelarid in their midst. Some placed hands on hidden daggers and crude short swords.
Caen noticed their uneasiness, but he kept his attention focused on Kaleb. He asked, “What brings you so far from your kingdom then? Especially now, since Hoffnung was overtaken?”
“Travels mainly. But also adventure.”
“Is King Erik alive?” Sarey asked.
“Dear lady, I pray so. But I don’t rightly know. My account of what I said be the truth. I swear it upon the gods and goddesses of Aetheaon.”
“The three goddesses have been silent for quite some time,” Caen said. “And they certainly hold no favor for Hoffnung.”
“So you believe King Erik might still be alive?” Joss asked.
“It is possible.”
Sarey glanced at Dawn. Dawn’s eyes moistened with tears. Glancing around, a lot of the other patrons were near tears as well.
“I as well as all of those loyal to Hoffnung’s former crown would rejoice at such a possibility, and if such were true, the worse thought is where King Erik might be, and who holds him prisoner,” Caen said.
Joss set the crossbow underneath the bar. He ran a hand through his silver silky beard. “He can’t possibly live. Not with those bloodthirsty beasts and not after so many years.”
Dawn cleared her throat, looked at Caen, and she asked, “Do you believe it is possible that he might still be alive?”
Caen sighed. “Possible? It’s hard to say. Snowloch is a frozen barren land. None of the demonkin lives there now. No living race inhabits Snowloch.”
“Maybe not on the surface,” Dawn said. “How about underneath in an ice cavern?”
“We never found any sign of activity above or below. Queen Taube sent us to scour the land six different times. No evidence was ever discovered. And to suggest the possibility that he lives is an insult to us all.”
“But reports were that Vykings had sailed to Snowloch for trading purposes,” Dawn replied.
“I know, but in battle, I never saw one Vyking.”
“But it makes sense,” Sarey said. “That is, if our king lives.”
Joss frowned. “Why’s that?”
“According to the legend of the battle, King Erik was surrounded,” Sarey said. “How can we be so certain that he isn’t still alive?”
“That is true,” Kaleb said. “I was there. I saw the demons take him away.”
Dawn said, “Perhaps they allowed you to live to report back what happened?”
“While that is possible, I wish I had been able to do more,” Kaleb said. “Of course I was much younger then, but even any of us can be overtaken when the numbers of our enemies greatly outnumber us.”
The tired farming peasants sat with their drinks and listened intently to the information the knights exchanged. Their minds seemed to be entertained by the retelling of the tragedies of Snowloch and the death of King Erik. A bard sat in the corner, busily writing down the information.
Caen took in Kaleb’s information, nodded, and said, “I agree. That’s part of the reason Hoffnung fell to the Vyking invasion. For one, no one expected the invasion, and even after the warning was sounded, the numbers were too great to hold them back.”
“Waxxon had a hand in that,” Joss said. “How else would they have gotten up the lifts and he be crowned king?”
A deepness filled Kaleb’s voice, as that of a great orator, as he said, “I pledge to you, Dragon Skull Knight, that whatever service I can be to you and to the restoration of Hoffnung, is yours. I’d gladly sacrifice my other eye, my life, and my soul to see King Erik returned to his throne.
“As would I,” Eegrubb said, bowing his head slightly.
“Enough!” Caen said. “With as long as that battle has been over, our king cannot possible still be alive.”
“And if he is?” one tavern patron asked, nervously straightening his long beard.
“Then the Dragon Skull Knights have failed him long ago.”
Kaleb pointed at Caen and said, “Why do you no longer wear the armor and only wear the pendant? Are you a coward that the Vykings might see who you really are?”
Caen’s jaw tightened. “No. I wear the Vyking armor because it was the only way I could escape Hoffnung with my life. Dead, I offer no usefulness to Hoffnung.”
“Aye, well spoken. How might my brother and I be of your service?” Kaleb asked. “As knights, we’re brothers.”
“We’re knights,” Caen agreed. “But not from the same kingdom.”
“To join forces against a common foe is what kingdoms have always done.”
Sarey studied the two men for a moment. She said, “Stay and train with our men tomorrow to prove yourself.”
The brothers exchanged glances and then nodded.
“Happy to oblige,” Kaleb said. “I’m up for such a challenge. What do you say, Dragon Knight?”
Caen stared at him with piercing cold eyes. “The world might look differently to you tomorrow after you sober up.”
Kaleb swallowed hard and gave a nervous glance toward Eegrubb. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
Kaleb and his brother walked away.
In a low whisper, Caen said, “That we shall.”
Chapter Thirty
A hissing wave of steam and fire spewed from Taniesse’s mouth, disintegrating the poisonou
s plant barbs and vines into ash before they struck her or Boldair.
Boldair crouched, rolled, and made his way behind her, almost getting squashed beneath her tail after she had transformed back into her dragon form.
She took an extremely deep intake of air and exhaled another blazing wall of fire through the edge of the thick forest. Vines shrank into charred dust and massive tree trunks smoldered. The leafy canopy directly overhead wilted and turned brown. The soil between the trees became hard, cracked, and barren. The underbrush was gone for nearly a hundred yards ahead of them.
The heat rose and the top of the tree canopy burst into quick explosions of bright orange, like enflamed matchsticks, which faded almost as quickly as they ignited. Streams of smoke spiraled toward the sky and a thick sooty odor drifted with a gentle breeze.
After speaking a few draconic words, she returned to her human form. Her eyes remained fiery red as she turned and faced Boldair, who held his ax firmly and without fear. He seemed prepared to fight, if necessary, should anything or anyone step out from the blackened trees. Little could have survived the dragon’s blaze.
“So much for not announcing our arrival,” she said in a low, agitated voice. Dark smoke drifted above the trees.
“Sorry.” He shrugged.
“For future reference, don’t attack unless you’re attacked first. Understood?”
Boldair nodded. “Yes, Great One.”
“Good. Let’s proceed but as quickly and quietly as possible. And carefully, I need to insist.”
“Aye.”
Black soot puffed around their boots while they walked. The parched soil crunched. In with the darkened ash, brittle small skeletons of birds and beasts collapsed into dust as well.
“Aye, all this ash just makes me even more thirsty,” Boldair said, resting his ax over his shoulder.
Taniesse gave a slight nod. “I could use a drink myself.”
A smile cut through the dwarf’s beard. He pointed a stubby finger toward the scorched path ahead of them. “You did hint that a tavern was nestled somewhere within this thick forest?”
She sighed. “Not so much a tavern.”
“Oh?” he asked with a disappointed groan. He stepped over a charred log. Streams of smoke spiraled upward. Red embers glowed when aroused by the wind.
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