Viorka dodged an old undead woman that stepped into view from near a stable pen. She scampered to the side, rolled, and squeezed through the boards of the closest stable.
Taniesse spun her hand, tossing the fireball onto the old woman hobbling toward the door. The disease-ridden lady shrieked and buckled, the dragon fire engulfing her contaminated body. The pustules popped as her flesh began to melt and peeled off her body.
A second later, another fireball struck a young undead man. His body shook and rocked as the fire consumed him.
Each stable pen had two gates on the opposite ends of the enclosure. Viorka rose from her cat form, opened the far gate and led the horse out to the pasture. She quickly undid the other pen gates and the wild-eyed horses bolted from their pens and into the grassy field.
Taniesse lobbed another fireball and then another. Smoke billowed up off the burning crumbling bodies, the flames licked higher and higher, and reached toward the hay filled loft. With four of the walking corpses in flames, she shut the barn door and secured it.
“That will stop them?” Boldair asked.
She gave a solemn nod. “Once the hay in the loft sets ablaze, the barn will burn to the ground. The fire should destroy them swiftly. Let’s hope that it doesn’t consume any of the neighboring buildings as well.”
“So, what does this mean?” Viorka asked.
Taniesse sighed. “The Plague-bringer was here. Let’s hope he’s not still nearby.”
“Why would he attack such a small farm?”
“He holds no prejudice and thrives on terror. He only wishes to leave sadness and destruction.”
Boldair shook his head and sighed. “Tis a shame.”
“It is,” Taniesse replied.
“All those hops rotting in the fields, too.”
Taniesse gave him a harsh glare. “But despite what the Plague-bringer has done, he has also aided us in our journey.”
“How’s that?” Boldair asked with a frown.
“We now have horses to make the journey quicker.”
“True. My feet are sore and me blisters have blisters.”
Viorka grunted. “Some help here?”
Boldair set his ax against a fencepost and hurried to her. She was dragging a saddle from the burning barn. Boldair wrapped his thick hand around the saddle horn and carried it out of the fire’s reach. He ran back to the barn and grabbed two more saddles. Once he placed them beside the first, he walked to where Taniesse stood.
“Fancy a drink now, O’ Great One?”
“I do.”
“Think I be needing a barrel of something strong to erase what we witnessed here.”
“No, you need to let it harden you.”
“Why?”
“Before we ever get to the battlefield, we’re going to see far grimmer than what we saw here.”
***
Lehrling sat at a table in Hobskin’s Tavern with Riese and Roble.
Drucis sat at a table nearby with Draken and Sorgen. Another dwarf sat with them. The four dwarves downed tankards of ale, laughed loudly, and hammered their fists upon the round table. As Lehrling had told Bausch, the dwarves were already well past a barrel but still not finished.
Lehrling looked into his own tankard as he held it, said a silent toast to Bausch, and downed his stout. Perhaps a few more drinks would lessen his pain. He doubted it. Excessive alcohol while sinking in despair was never a good combination. But with all the recent tragedy, he hoped that he had found a new friend in Roble.
While Shawndirea was hidden inside Roble’s vest pocket, Lehrling marveled at how smitten Roble was with the faery. Of course, who could blame him? The dainty faery’s face was gorgeous, her captivating eyes sparkled unlike any gem he’d ever beheld, and her body was perfectly proportioned . . . for her size.
Lehrling shook his head and chided himself for letting his mind drift inappropriately.
The more he was around Roble, the more intrigued he became watching how Roble reacted to their surroundings. It was almost as though the place where Roble came from was unlike any of the terrain around them. In many ways, Roble exemplified a childlike innocence. But when threatened, like he had been by the Vykings, he was capable of killing without hesitation. Roble was shrouded with mysteries, but Lehrling still felt drawn to him, as if they each needed one another, but in different ways.
Where was Cider Knoll? That was another mystery toying inside Lehrling’s tired mind.
Roble intensely studied the tavern. His curiosity caught the attention of other patrons and one elf in particular.
The elf’s complexion was perfection. No scars or blemishes flawed the radiance of his fair skin. His emerald-colored eyes almost matched the color of his green dragon scale armor. The silver necklace he wore had a large emerald in the centerpiece, which was surrounded by six smaller emeralds.
The elf’s silvery hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. The fine hairs looked like shimmering threads of silver silk. A high elf, no doubt, or at least one of grand stature in whatever city he resided in. An air of nobility and royalty flowed around him.
Lehrling noticed Roble’s determined frown and asked, “What is it?”
“The elf. He’s staring at me.”
Lehrling glanced toward the elf. The elf’s gaze remained upon Roble. He looked deep in thought as he studied Roble. Did this elf also recognize how different Roble was from all the others? Or did he sense the presence of Shawndirea?
Riese nodded. “So he is. What of it?”
“It’s just odd.”
“Well,” Riese said. “You’re at my table. If he wants to make something of your presence here, he may find he doesn’t like how I deal with those who trouble my personal guests.”
“Perhaps he knows you,” Lehrling said to Roble.
Roble shook his head. “I’ve never met an elf.”
Lehrling frowned and motioned the barmaid to bring him another tankard. You have a faery but have never met an elf? Elves were common in most all of the cities of Aetheaon. How could Roble not know any?
Roble leaned closer to Lehrling and whispered, “Excuse me.”
“Where are you going?”
Roble didn’t reply.
Riese watched Roble leave and turned to face Lehrling. “This man is not who was with you before. What happened to your former comrade who was with you when you first entered Glacier Ridge?”
“Bausch?”
“He never gave his name.”
Lehrling sighed. “The three Vykings killed him on the ridge top.”
“I see. And this man? He wears Bausch’s armor?”
Lehrling nodded.
“Where did he come from?”
“He said that he’s from . . .”
“Cider Knoll. I know the name of his town. But it’s a place I’ve never heard of.”
“Nor have I.”
“How did you happen upon him?”
Lehrling took a drink and set his tankard down. “He happened upon me and saved my life. He killed two of the three Vykings.”
Riese’s eyes narrowed with curiosity and a bit of fascination. “By himself?”
“Yes.”
“With what weapon?”
“Would you believe throwing knives?” Lehrling asked.
“It would not have been my first thought.”
“That’s the truth.”
“I believe you. And the third Vyking? Who killed him?”
“I did.”
Riese gave an even smile. “Well, that’s three less I have to worry about. Did they give you any reason as to why they wanted you and Bausch dead?”
“After the Vykings invaded Hoffnung and killed the queen, Waxxon assumed the throne. Since we are of the Dragon Knight Order and have sworn to protect Hoffnung’s throne, Waxxon made a decree and has apparently offered a hefty reward for our deaths.”
“I see. So Hoffnung has fallen?”
“For now.”
“And how to you plan to change that?”
Lehrling coughed and patted his chest. A small ache burned near his ribs. Only minor, but enough warning to know the potion was wearing off. “Our hope is that Lady Dawn still lives. That’s why Bausch and I headed here, hoping that we’d find others in our Order.”
Riese shook his head. “You two, and this new one of course, are the only Dragon Knights I’ve seen in months. Maybe over a year. Who is Lady Dawn?”
“The princess of Hoffnung.”
“Do you believe Lady Dawn is alive?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll travel town to town and to each major city until we find the rest of the Order. We’ll search for her as well or for any news about her. Even if she’s not alive, we will build armies and storm Hoffnung’s gates. Waxxon will fall. The Vyking hordes will be driven out.”
Lehrling paused after making the bold statement, fearful that he had insulted Riese. Riese had never told them that he was a Vyking, but appearance alone indicated that he was of their bloodline.
A slight smile curled on Riese’s lips. “Kill them all.”
Riese’s response was not what Lehrling expected to hear, but he was relieved to know that Riese had taken no offense.
“Tell me, Dragon Knight, once you remove Waxxon, who will take the throne if you haven’t found Lady Dawn?”
The question caused Lehrling to frown in puzzlement. “We’ve not really considered that. Queen Taube and Lady Dawn were the last of the Twillor Dynasty.”
“Replacing Waxxon with someone other than royal lineage will have its problems as well. You will probably face a long period of skirmishes for the throne.”
“That’s true.”
“Then pray to whatever deity you pay homage to that she is still alive.”
Lehrling nodded.
“I must also give you further warning,” Riese said.
“What’s that?”
“The other Vykings that arrived here earlier might pose a threat if they notice your presence.”
“I realize that.”
Riese stared sternly. “They have no authority in Glacier Ridge. They’re trespassers. It’s in their best interest to stay the night and move on in the morning.”
“It is my hope.”
Riese clenched his hands into tight fists.
At the corner table to Riese’s left sat three men who laughed and drank. The thin man in the center was dark skinned with a black beard and braided hair that hung down his back. Riese eyed the man until the man became uneasy and finally looked away.
Crukas.
“Friend?” Lehrling asked with a chuckle.
Riese’s eyes narrowed. “Hardly.”
“Foe?”
“You could say that. I warned Crukas to never return here.”
“That’s him?”
Riese nodded.
“I expected him to be . . . bigger, with his reputation.”
“He’s the master of thieves in all of Aetheaon. I never had any problem with him until he started setting up other thieves and thugs to collect the ransoms on them.”
“That’s harsh betrayal, even for a thief.”
“I agree.”
Nervously, Lehrling searched the tavern again. “Roble still hasn’t returned.”
Riese set two gold coins onto the table and stood. “Perhaps we should go look for him.”
Chapter Fifty-one
Dawn sat outside the Pig-Sty Tavern with her back against a tie-post and her knees drawn up under her chin. Her heart ached for so many different reasons.
The loss of her mother was the most painful. The fall of Hoffnung and Waxxon’s betrayal caused more anger and resentment than loss. But the ordeal with Caen had unraveled so many of her emotions that she didn’t quite know how to sort them out.
Caen was the first man outside of immediate family that she had had the privilege of spending time alone with. She couldn’t quite say that she had fallen in love with him because well, he thought of her as a boy, and saw her through a different kind of eyes. But she had grown attracted to his more positive attributes and knew since he had rescued her from the harsh whippings of Balo that he was a man who cared enough to help the vulnerable and underprivileged. He had tenderness and wasn’t calloused at heart.
So why was he acting like a jealous spoiled child?
With all of the hurt she held inside, his actions cut her deeper than all of the rest. She wondered if it was because she was drawn to him, wanting him for a potential lover.
That’s premature. She chided herself, in spite of her building curiosity of sharing a bed with him.
But, she found that she couldn’t look into his eyes for more than a moment because whenever she did, she’d then immediately look at his lips and found herself wanting to kiss him. And when she had helped him get undressed and washed the sweat off of his muscular back while he wore practically nothing . . . She tried to suppress her desires, but that same night when she had slept in the other bed at the inn, she found herself wanting to be closer to him. Her wakeful mind thought only of him.
And now, he was tossing her aside so easily over his bizarre jealousy about something that wasn’t even happening.
Dawn was confused, angry, depressed, and hurt, and at the same time she also hated Caen and almost wanted to kill him.
“I’ve looked all over for you. Are you okay?” Sarey asked, sitting down beside her.
Dawn shook her head and didn’t make eye contact. Her face was wet with tears. Looking at Sarey might cause fresh ones to come. Dawn explained exactly how her emotions were tearing her up inside.
“You know what that means?” Sarey asked.
“No. What?”
“It means you’re in love with him.”
“How can I be in love with him when all I want to do right now is strangle him?” Her hands tightened in a tight wringing motion.
Sarey smiled. “You’re young. Love encompasses many different emotions, often changing in a matter of minutes. Bliss comes in moments, but love requires devotion and sometimes a bit of compromise. It’s never perfect.”
Dawn gave a slight side-glance at Sarey. “Sounds like you’ve experienced it.”
Sarey clasped her hands together and then set them upon her lap. “I have.”
“I presume you’re not talking about Bausch?”
Sarey shook her head.
“And it didn’t work out?”
“Not like I had hoped.”
“What happened?”
“Jealousy and resentment caused him to leave our hamlet. He never came back. If he’s still alive, I have no idea. Doesn’t matter now, of course. My feelings toward him finally died after a few long depressing months. Nights passed when I wondered if my tears would ever dry.”
Dawn turned and faced Sarey. “Who made him jealous?”
“Well, envious might be a better way of expressing his true actions.”
“How so?”
“As I told you earlier, none of the men in Esgrove would openly express interest in me as a potential spouse because there’s not one person in this hamlet that can shoot an arrow more precisely than I. I’m equal to them in swordplay, and no one has ever pinned me wrestling in the pit.
“From time to time we have a small tournament, more for fun than anything else. But that’s why Trevor left. He believed I had humiliated him in all our skills competitions against one another. We were the two highest ranked and competed against each other for the final event. He lost.”
“He left over that?”
Sarey nodded.
“Why? It’s just an arena set of events.”
“I know. But not only could he not face me, he said that he could never walk in Esgrove without feeling like every man secretly sported fun at him.”
“Preposterous.”
Sarey laughed. “Isn’t it? That’s why I told you that you couldn’t reason with Caen over his bizarre behavior today. There’s the chance that after he’s had time to think about the situation and calmed down, he’ll k
eep you as his squire.”
“If he doesn’t and chooses another squire and leaves me behind, I may never see him again, Sarey. I may never succeed in taking back the throne.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes watching several fat hens and roosters fly onto the lower tree branches to roost for the night. A flock of doves flew overhead. One dove circled back, landing on a branch above the chickens. Its little head bobbed side to side while positioning its feet on the branch.
Sarey glanced at Dawn. “Caen’s inside the tavern.”
“What’s he doing?”
Sarey bit her lower lip and gently placed her hand on Dawn’s shoulder. “He’s getting drunk.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does. He’s miserable.”
“About what he did?”
Sarey shrugged. “I think it’s something deeper than that. I can’t be sure.”
“Then why would he vent on us?”
“To drive out his anger.”
“He should have done that in the sparring pit.”
“He might have if he didn’t fear losing favor with the folk here. Kaleb had too many weaknesses for Caen to take advantage of, but Caen did the right thing. He could have embarrassed Kaleb far worse. As badly as Kaleb fought, Caen could have easily killed him.”
“I know,” Dawn replied.
“Come inside, and I’ll get you something hot to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Sarey stood, offered her hand. “Your mind tells you to say that, but your stomach differs. It does speak, too, and not at a whisper, either. Come on. Roasted boar and boiled potatoes. Fit for a young queen.”
Dawn glanced up with a slight grin.
Sarey winked.
Dawn took Sarey’s calloused hand and let Sarey pull her to her feet. “I appreciate all the kindness you’ve shown me, Sarey, and your advice. You’re like a sister to me.”
Sarey smiled. “I appreciate that.”
“It’s true, and when I take back the throne, I won’t forget it.”
Chapter Fifty-two
Zauber drifted above the tall trees of Woodcrest as a fine cloud of mist. After the fall of Hoffnung, he was compelled to visit Woodcrest. Through his mirror portal he had watched several small bands of Vyking marauders leave Hoffnung’s city gates. These were scouts. A day later, they returned, probably giving a report of the nearest towns that lay in each direction.
Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension Page 38
