by TJ Reynolds
Kai strode back into the core room, face expectant.
The most blessed sound in the world followed.
Ban’s core swirled with joy as Kai gasped. The young dragon walked in, noting how elaborate and lovely the hearth was. Then he found one of the beds, and tested the mattress with a hand.
Then he sat down. “Ban! You can’t know how lovely this is. By Andag’s curling beard, this feels proper cozy!”
I’m so glad you think so, Kai. Did you see the table as well? It would be very pleasant to play host though I do think we’re short on friends at the moment.
Kai reluctantly stood up from the bed and explored the core room. He admired the table and chairs, simply made but strong. Then he warmed himself in the blazing fire.
Ban knew Kai would want nothing more than to fall asleep soon, but he had his final surprise to worry about.
Kai, do you remember when I first showed you my gargat champion?
Of course. You scared me half to death, Ban. Not likely to forget.
Ban stifled a laugh. Well, be warned. I’ve already absorbed the houndzard and found a suitable… replacement I think. Just know, the creature I am about to show you is a friend.
Prior to inviting Kai in, Ban had pulled up a thin veil of stone to hide his latest champion. It only took a second to absorb the stone and reveal the newest addition to their forces.
I present to you my Dalgard Champion!
Kai spun, but having been prepared, didn’t race back for his glaive or fire off a spell. Instead, his face wrinkled up in a mixture of what Ban thought might be fascination and disgust.
It’s… something, Ban. It’s quite something.
Well, if that isn’t a prime example of an underwhelming reception, Ban chided.
The champion stood well over seven feet tall, and its shoulders were massive. Its mouth hung slack at the jaw exposing long, sharp teeth. The dalgard’s eyes glowed a faint blue, lending it surprising adaptability in its vision.
Forcing the creature to take two impressive steps forward, Ban forced it to bring up its spear and thrust in the air.
Its armor rattled, and the long spear shuddered in the air a few feet away from Kai. Come now, Kai! This is an impressive new friend, am I right?
Kai seemed to consider the beast anew and nodded. “You’re right. Having an armed and armored champion around will certainly be helpful. How did you make its equipment so quickly?”
Ban’s reply came through the dalgard’s own mouth, its voice deep and coarse. “I copied the same model I used for your armor, Kai. My champion lacks the detail and flourish that your armor has, and I haven’t yet played with runes. For a first try, I think it worthy though.”
“I’ll say. Gods, Ban. You could pump out suits of armor like that for a week and make us the richest men in Hintar. Also, cool voice. Might be able to scare our enemies to death if push comes to shove.”
Ban used his champion’s lungs to let out a big sigh. Really, Kai? Haven’t you learned how trivial riches are yet? I can make you almost anything you desire, and yet still, you think of coin.
Kai laughed, walking around the towering champion. “Well said. I don’t find it easy going from worrying about where I’ll find my next meal to having an Earth Core as a companion. Good work overall, Ban. The, uh, dalgard’s face… is a little hard to look at, but I can get used to it.”
I should hope so. You know, for a dragon, you’re awfully fond of your human face. It’s a bit mousy if you haven’t noticed.
Mousy? Kai asked, chuckling at the insult.
Quite so. I forgive you though. Now, is there anything you need, my friend? I have a dungeon to explore, things to make, and projects to attend to.
Kai scratched his chin idly, then walked back over to the bed he’d left behind. “I only want to sleep for a fortnight. That should do me some good. Before I do so, however, I need to contact Rhona again. I’m eager to find out if anything has changed.”
Ban approved, and said as much.
Sensing Kai’s mind slipping into the strange trance required to perform Soul Projection, Ban knew he was no longer needed.
So he turned to the first task at hand, knowing he could not in good conscience, ignore such an ill.
Trusting in the natural strength of his dalgard, Ban absorbed the minion’s armor, making its body more recognizable.
Then, bearing the long spear Ban had created, his new champion left the core room and began ascending the tower.
By Ban’s count, there were precisely thirty-seven guests in the keep.
Terrified, malnourished, and probably pissed off, the remaining daldrim were due for a little hospitality.
The only question that remained was if they wanted any.
16
The Woman Behind the Bow
Rhona
After the border skirmish was good and truly over, after the bodies had been buried or burned, after the loot had been distributed, Rhona felt as hollow as a drum.
Tela found her nursing a mug of mulled wine, trying to find warmth in the drink and the fire she sat before. “You fought like a proper Hintari today,” the ranger said, taking up a seat beside her.
The comment had been meant in a kindly fashion, but Rhona couldn’t help but feel it twisting the dagger already in her belly. “Aye. Killing Brintoshi like I’d been born to it.”
Seemingly unperturbed, Tela continued. “There’s a world of difference between a warrior and a soldier. You, my red-haired friend, are one and not the other. If you were but a soldier, you’d have stayed in your homeland. A warrior differs in that they fight for what they deem to be right or wrong. It has nothing to do with orders.”
“And which are you?”
Tela smiled, a grim and satisfied expression. “I’ve always been a warrior, Rhona. I just hope I have the strength to be so again. Royar and I have a strong suspicion we’re about to be given a nasty choice.”
Feeling her interests perk, Rhona humored the woman. “Is that so?”
Rising to her feet again, the woman winked at Rhona playfully. “Join me in my tent and I’ll tell you all I know.”
This urged a laugh from Rhona’s lips. “Now I see. You must have bumped heads with a Brintoshi Shield Sergeant. They have notoriously thick skulls. Else why are you suddenly acting like a sister?”
Tela shrugged. “Might be I feel a little guilty about giving you such a shivving hard time when we first met. Or it might be I fancy a red head every now and then. But if you don’t follow me, you’ll never learn the truth of it.”
Rhona blushed even though she knew the woman had been joking. Having spent so much time among men, such jests were easy to ignore. Coming from a woman, though, was different.
Regardless, the monk craved any news at all. She followed Tela as the tall ranger wound through the camp.
She found Tela stoking a small fire outside of her tent. Rhona sat down and waited for her host to finish.
At last, having revived the small fire, Tela sat down as well.
“Not sure if you’ve heard of it, but does the name Night Flame ring a bell?”
Rhona shook her head. “Not really, no. Is it the name of a story then?”
“A flower. Beautiful and common as weeds. But when preserved right, it makes a wonderful medicinal tea,” Tela explained as she fished out a leather pouch from a nearby pack.
The ranger proceeded to grind the herb before steeping it in the tea pot hanging from a stick over the fire.
It took fifteen minutes for the brew to come to a boil, and another ten to cool. But when Rhona took her first sip of the amber-colored tea, she moaned in pleasure.
“This is amazing. Tastes like sage and honeysuckle got together and made themselves a baby.”
Tela laughed at the description before adding one of her own. “I prefer to think of it as sage, ginger, and a hint of berry.”
Taking another drink, Rhona set down her cup. With her eyes closed, she chased the notes of flavor dancing on
her tongue. The tongue, she realized, that was rapidly growing numb. “Is it the ginger part that is making my tongue feel weird?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Hell if I know. It fades after a while though, and the tea gives your core a boost as well. If you pay attention, you can see that your ether regeneration has doubled and your health regeneration improved by one quarter.”
Tela finished her cup then poured another. “Most Hintari call the herb Night Flame, as I have mentioned, but the rangers and many of the soldiers call it something else. Battle Bane. Ridiculous name but it makes sense. There are few methods more efficient in helping soldiers recover from battle.”
“It does sound a bit puffed up. Thank you, by the way. It is a nice gesture.”
The two nursed their drinks in silence for a time, the staccato rhythm of the war camp evidence of time’s passage.
Tela, having finished her second cup, spoke.
Rhona noted the woman’s voice had changed, growing quieter and more solemn. “I hated you at first because of your skin and hair. I’ve feared and fought Brintoshi all my life. For years, it was only bandits and raiders who stormed the border in hopes of an easy profit. The rangers were called upon to protect the border, and since then, only soldiers and spies have dared enter Hintar.
“So, when you and your friends turned up, I thought it would have been quite entertaining to kill you all.”
Tela smiled almost affectionately before adding, “Then I learned your name.”
Rhona’s bark of laughter rippled through camp. “Yes, well, my friend, you aren’t the first to react to the news. I had a man taller than Royar offer to fight me on the spot once. I was fifteen at the time. Also, at least half a dozen others tried to slip into my knickers, hoping to bed the Destroyer’s daughter.”
“Men will sleep with the farm animals if you let them,” Tela remarked, her face melting into a warm grin. “But as you might suspect, I didn’t think so fondly of you when I learned your lineage.”
“No, suppose not,” Rhona replied. “What of your father? Or were you raised by dragons in the Zargan Mountains?”
“Dragons isn’t much of a stretch. No, my father was a simple man. He made barrels, day in and day out. But when the war came, he was called up to serve. Having no skill in combat, he fell as the first wave of Brintoshi raided the countryside.”
Rhona winced. She was well aware that such stories abounded. To ask so brazenly only to find the man had died at the hands of Rhona’s countrymen… it didn’t sit right.
Finally, she offered what condolences she could. “Sorry. I’m sure it is an old wound by now, numb and scarred over. Still can’t be pleasant.”
“No, it isn’t, and thank you,” Tela acknowledged. “How about your own home? Mine lacked a father. Yours didn’t, but I have the feeling that such a renowned warrior might not be the best parent.”
Rhona described a few incidents in her childhood, moments she learned how to deal with the terrifying man, how to avoid him. Then, having shared such intimate memories with one another, their conversation evolved.
They discussed weaponry first, then their preferences in tack and saddle. Finally, and quite surprisingly, the topic of men came up.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t considered the half-blood. Sure, he isn’t full Hintari, but even a drop of our golden blood goes a long way,” Tela said, a mischievous smile on her face.
Rhona practically choked on her tongue.
“No, Tela. Hasn’t happened and I doubt it will. He’s so shivving—”
“Young?” Tela interrupted.
Rhona nodded, conceding the point. “Aye. He’s young, and honestly, I’d be afraid of breaking him.”
“I’m five years Royar’s senior. At our current age, it doesn’t matter at all. I met him when he’d just turned twenty. At twenty and five, I’d already killed a dozen Brintoshi in battle and bedded half as many Hintari.”
Tela’s eyes twinkled as she recalled the distant memories. “I still give him hell for it, but the honest truth, and don’t you tell a damn soul, is that he’s the best lover I’ve ever had.”
“He does have that look about him,” Rhona admitted.
“It isn’t skill, mind you. You’re old enough to know yourself, intimacy is more complex than fencing. When all is said and done, though, I simply know Royar loves me more dearly than his own mother.”
The two women laughed together for a time. Rhona’s side ached, and she calmed her breathing. “I don’t know who I’m more broken- hearted for,” Rhona said at last. “Royar, for being stuck with a woman as cold as you, or his shivving mother.”
Again, laughter followed, and Tela fell into a long tirade defending Royar’s affections toward his mother.
Apparently, the leader of the prestigious Hintari rangers brought flowers to his mum once a month, and cleaned the woman’s chimney twice a year.
Now fast friends, the two shared a little food as well before their casual meeting came to an end. A soldier found them chatting like sisters. Sensing the man’s intention, Rhona purposefully didn’t turn to greet him. Instead, she changed the subject, asking Tela what she thought of the Brintoshi short bow.
“I can admire the weapon’s durability and the speed it can be fired,” Tela responded, her eyes locked on Rhona’s. “But the range and accuracy of the Hintari bow, my girl, place your countrymen at a significant disadvantage.”
At last, the nervous-looking squire cleared his throat to be heard.
“Miss, uh, Rhona ma’am, Commander Tembar wishes to speak with you.”
The two women mocked surprise and turned to him.
“And you as well, Tela, um… Miss—”
Before the young man could fluster himself further, Tela rose and sent him off. “Don’t bother yourself with my title. The commander wants us, and he’ll get us both. Message delivered, boy, now off with you!”
After the messenger had retreated a few dozen paces, the two shared a giggle before heading off to answer Tembar’s call.
The commander’s tent wasn’t too far off, and Rhona was glad that Tela remained silent while they went. Too many thoughts and emotions buzzed around in her thick skull. What have I become that I take the lives of my countrymen so easily? she kept asking herself. But the worst questions she’d come up with, the one that haunted her, had little to do with her. How did Hastings take her memories? How long will it be until he tries to take the Sunken Keep? And how can I become strong enough to stop him?
At last, Rhona entered the command tent and found it occupied by a circle of stools.
Two were empty.
Rhona sat near Royar, who’d turned and given her a wink when she entered. Tela sat on her opposite side.
The other stools were taken by the various officers of the Hintari forces.
It struck Rhona that though her position in this camp might be tenuous, the men and women in the war council no longer considered her an enemy.
Such had been her goal, at least so far as it meant stopping the Brintoshi.
And though she’d had a lovely time with Tela earlier, and trusted Royar and Tembar more than most of the soldiers she’d served with, Rhona still felt uncomfortable.
For having been accepted by Hintari, in no situation could she imagine returning to her homeland.
17
Rumors and Rebellion
Rhona
Tembar sat across from her, and in the center of the circle, a small table stood. On the table sat a sphere made of crystal. Motes of ether floated about within.
Rhona had never seen the likes of the item before, but she had a guess what it might be.
Tembar greeted them. “Welcome, Rhona. I am pleased that you and Tela have become friends. It is unfortunate our two countries can’t seem to do the same.”
No quick reply came to Rhona’s mind, so she held her tongue.
Before any awkward tension could build, Royar thumped her on the back and announced, “She can fight like a true drago
n, eh? I had a good feeling about this one when we picked her up. Glad to see I wasn’t a fool.”
“You’re most definitely a fool, Royar. Hush and let Tembar tell us what he means to,” Tela replied, her tone brooking no objections.
Tembar chuckled to himself, most likely used to the antics of his soldiers. Then he fixed his gaze on Rhona once more. “He doesn’t speak wrong though. I saw what you did. I know a little of the old ways. The ancient Brintoshi weren’t the only ones who walked such paths though I’ve never seen a monk with your style before. What path do you walk, Rhona?”
“The Path of the Bleeding Tiger,” she answered mutely.
“I was told the monks were forbidden to attack unless in defense. Is this not true?”
Rhona nodded. “Our ambush was in defense. The Brintoshi were committing an act of war, and our soldiers were in harm’s way. My oath remains intact. If I were on their side, such a claim wouldn’t hold up, and the skills I’ve acquired as a monk would be useless.”
“Interesting,” Tembar said under his breath. He scratched the stubble at his chin before finally shrugging off his stray thoughts. “Anyhow, if we’re lucky, I would love to spend some time discussing it further with you. For now, however, we have a few items to discuss.”
Looking to those gathered around the tent, Tembar continued. “I will be using a scrying crystal to contact the capital. I’ll give a full report. Then, if we’re lucky, we might even hear our orders. No doubt, they’ll want us all to stay here and fight like dogs.”
Tembar gave the order, and the same old crone that performed the core oath stepped out of a shadowed corner.
The old woman knelt before the table and cast a spell. It was a quick thing, a single spoken word, and then her hand was aglow with a bead of ether. She touched it to the crystal, and the device lit up immediately, casting the room with an eerie glow.
A few moments later, a crackling cut through the silence in the tent. It made Rhona’s ears tickle but only lasted a second. Then a voice called out, each word making the light in the crystal pulse. “Commander… Commander Tembar, are you there?” the voice asked in Hintari.
