Defenders of the Sacred Land: Expanded and Re-Issued (The Sacred Land Legacy Book 1)

by Mark E. Tyson

  “Thank you,” Dorenn said to the sailor.

  Dorenn went to talk to Rennon as he wound his fishing line. “I suppose the fishing will have to wait.”

  “What city is this?” Rennon asked.

  “Port Arovan, I am told.”

  “Still part of Adracoria?”

  “As far as I know, it is. The maps I have seen put part of the Great Sythian Forest in the upper western corner of Adracoria.”

  “Ah, this must be the last port before the forest then.”

  Dorenn nodded, “before we depart at Crystalmill, just outside the forest, according to Ianthill.”

  Gondrial met with the two boys on deck. “The crew tells me we will be in Port Arovan until at least tomorrow, maybe longer. What say we go to Yew’s Tavern and sample the ales? Yew’s has ales imported from all over the world. I have tried several of them but I have yet to try them all.” He reflected for a moment. “In fact, in all the seasons I have visited this port. I have only sampled maybe half.”

  “I am up for some time off ship,” Rennon was excited to say.

  “I’d wager Vesperin would be up for it too. Solid ground will do him good,” Dorenn said.

  “I told him we were putting into dock, and he said he would be on deck shortly,” Gondrial told them.

  “And here I am,” Vesperin said as he joined the others.

  “How are you feeling now?” Rennon asked.

  “Better than yesterday. I would very much like to get off this ship for a time,” he said, and then he addressed Gondrial, “although I don’t feel much like having ale, sorry my friend.”

  Gondrial patted him on the back and laughed. “I understand, Vesperin, but you will come with us, won’t you?”

  “Of course I will.” Vesperin grinned.

  The Sea Goddess slowly entered a berth, and Dorenn could feel the anticipation of standing on solid ground grow within him. As soon as the mooring ropes were secure, the three boys and Gondrial departed, only stopping long enough to tell Ianthill they would be back sometime after dark.

  As the boys left Ianthill’s sight, Enowene scowled at him disapprovingly. “Are you going to let them go carousing with Gondrial like that, Master Ianthill?”

  “What choice do I have, Enowene? The boys are becoming men, and I believe they should enjoy themselves while they still can. The times ahead will afford them no such luxuries.” He sighed and took Enowene by the hand. “How about a nice home cooked supper at the inn, eh?”

  “I thought you would never ask,” Enowene stated with a smile.

  Ianthill held his arm out and she took it, and they both walked off the ship onto the dock. Enowene abruptly stopped. “We should bring along Tatrice and Lady Shey as well.”

  “Aye, I think we should go fetch them.”

  Enowene and Ianthill walked rapidly back onto the ship for Tatrice and Lady Shey. They found Tatrice in her cabin with Bren. The two of them were talking while polishing their dragon scale armor. Enowene’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “There you are, Tatrice. Ianthill and I are going to the inn for supper. Would you and Bren like to join us?”

  “Thank you for your invitation, but Bren and I have made plans.” She blushed slightly and Enowene lifted an eyebrow.

  “Uh huh, I see. Come along, Tatrice, I think you had better join me tonight.” Tatrice hesitated. “Now, my dear,” Enowene said sternly.

  “As you wish, my lady,” Tatrice obeyed.

  “I mean no harm to the young lady, er- my lady,” Bren said.

  “No, of course not,” Enowene said. “Nevertheless, I will take Tatrice along with me anyway. I am sure you understand, broodlord.”

  “Of course, my lady,” Bren said, standing and bowing respectfully.

  “Come along, Tatrice,” Enowene commanded, and Tatrice obeyed. “We will look for Lady Shey.” Tatrice stumbled, and the small green statuette Dorenn had given her in Cedar Falls tumbled to the deck with a thud.

  “Oh no,” Tatrice said, scooping up the statuette. “I hope it didn’t break.” She examined it carefully.

  “It appears to be unharmed,” Bren said.

  Enowene looked at the statue in Tatrice’s hand. “Where did you say you got that?”

  “Dorenn gave it to me when we traveled through Cedar Falls. Why do you ask?”

  “I remember Lady Shey having a statuette like that one when she was very young. Her mother had given it to her as I recall. May I hold it?”

  Tatrice handed the statuette to Enowene.

  “Ah, I do believe it is made from an essence stone, a Nolminae Alaenore.”

  “What is an essence stone?” Tatrice asked.

  “In days of old, essence stones were used to store power to draw on in areas where there was not sufficient essence to wield, such as the Sacred Land is now. It could also be used to house a person’s essence, but the ability to use it in this manner has been lost.” She handed the statuette back to Tatrice. “It was common practice to sculpt the stones into objects more pleasing to the eye than a lump of stone or crystal.”

  “Do you have one, Enowene?” Tatrice asked.

  “Heavens no, they are extremely rare and expensive. In fact, I would wager that the person who sold that statuette to Dorenn had no idea what it was.”

  Tatrice put the statuette back into the front pocket of her dress, pleased that Dorenn had given her such a precious gift.

  Lady Shey was strolling out on deck when Enowene, Ianthill, and Tatrice found her. She happily agreed to come to supper.

  The three women and Ianthill left the ship.

  Enowene cocked an eyebrow. “Bren was about to make a dragon knight out of young Tatrice here. I suggested she come with us instead.” She told Lady Shey.

  “Really?” Lady Shey said inquiringly. “How was he to accomplish that aboard ship?”

  Enowene cleared her throat loudly.

  “Oh, I see. Is that…uh…is that how it is then?” Lady Shey stammered.

  “No, it was most certainly not that!” Tatrice interrupted. “I am not so foolish a girl as to not know what you two are implying. Bren was a complete gentleman the whole time. We talked of the armor and that is all.”

  “Okay, dear, just be sure and not talk of the armor with him anymore without supervision,” Enowene insisted.

  “I am not a helpless kitchen maid,” Tatrice said, frustrated with Enowene’s tone.

  “Of course not, my dear,” Enowene said.

  Ianthill rolled his eyes and looked for the nearest inn, any inn he could find.

  Chapter 31: Dragon Knight

  Yew’s Tavern’s location put it not far from the docks, which meant it was a sailor’s tavern. Dorenn was a bit uneasy about being around such a rough crowd. His own experience with the crew of The Sea Goddess told him they were probably a friendly bunch prone to pranks and humorous endeavors. The captain of The Sea Goddess was a well-loved man that treated his crew more fairly then most, but some of the sailors did not have such a cheerful disposition.

  A tall, stout-looking woman with dirty blonde hair and a thick cigar in her mouth approached the table the four men had occupied. “What will it be gents?”

  “I think we will splurge this night and purchase four Lux Amarou Stout ales please.”

  The woman’s eyes lit up. “Coming up.”

  “What was that look she gave us for?” Dorenn asked Gondrial.

  “The men of Lux Amarou hold the record for the thickest, stoutest ale. The men there believe that if it is thick and disgusting enough, no one will want to drink it and therefore wean himself off the drink. The problem is that it is the most imported ale in the world, and it is extremely expensive because it is not brewed in large amounts.”

  “Why don’t they make more of it and turn a tidy profit?” Rennon asked.

  “The men from Lux Amarou think that it would be contributing to the evil ways of man, dwarf, and elf if they turn a profit from it. In other words, they would consider it ill-gotten wealth. The actual reason is tha
t there are not enough men left on the haunted island to produce any more.”

  “Four Lux Amarou Stouts,” The blonde-haired woman said, putting pint-sized tankards in front of them.

  Dorenn picked up his tankard as Gondrial paid the woman. To Dorenn’s nose, it smelled like the grease the sailors used on The Sea Goddess. “Ack, this smells disgusting.”

  “Naturally. It is stout ale, you know.” Gondrial turned his tankard up and drank the thick fluid down. “Ah, that’s the stuff.” Gondrial’s face contorted, and he closed one eye as he swallowed.

  Dorenn was surprised to see Vesperin turn his tankard bottom up and even more shocked when Rennon drank his.

  “Not bad,” Vesperin said to Rennon. “Not at all,” Rennon replied.

  All three sets of eyes were on Dorenn as he raised his tankard. He turned it up, letting the thick liquid slide down his throat without tasting it. The ale had a viscous quality. The alcohol burned slightly. The oily fluid washed down, leaving only a slightly bitter aftertaste.

  “Careful, Dorenn, that ale is called stout for a reason; it will hit you all at once,” Gondrial cautioned as he promptly ordered another round with a smile.

  “Make it five ales,” Bren said to the inn mistress as he pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat in it next to Dorenn. “Hello, lads. Mind if I invite myself to your outing?”

  “Not at all, broodlord,” Dorenn replied. Dorenn noticed that the dragon knight did not wear his armor but instead he was wearing a red and black leather tunic, breeches, and a tabard with a dragon inlay pull over. A medallion of a wounded drake being tended to by a man hung around his neck.

  “I thought dragon knights abstained from drinking and tavern going.” Gondrial said.

  “No, that is a myth, I am afraid. Dragon ale would make Lux Amarou Stout look like a pale amber.”

  “I thought it was against the wishes of the dragon masters you worship,” Vesperin said.

  Bren sniffed loudly. “We do not worship our dragons. We revere them, serve them as beings of ancient power and respect. They are friends and mentors. Someday you will meet them, and then it will all become clear.”

  “Meet the dragons; I would not be so bold to think I will ever meet the dragons,” Rennon stated.

  “Be careful, young Rennon. Some dragons turn up where you least expect them.” Vesperin chuckled.

  Rennon shook his head and tried to sip the rest of the ale from his empty tankard.

  “If you don’t worship dragons, why did you become a dragon knight?” Dorenn asked.

  Bren lifted his medallion and pointed to the man tending to the wounded dragon. “This medallion explains it all. It means a life for a life. The very first dragon knight dedicated his life to the dragon called Amadyre because she sacrificed her unborn drakeling in order to save his life. He declared that his life now belonged to her. A life for a life. Dragons only give birth about once every one hundred seasons or so. After a time, Amadyre gave the knight longer life and taught him the magic of the dragons. Soon many dragons recruited men, dwarves, elves, and even Scarovs.”

  “Then why are you here?” Rennon asked.

  “My dragon suggested it. Ah, here is our ale.”

  Bren paid for the ales and took the first drink. “Your question is difficult to answer, young Rennon, I certainly don’t have to be here. In truth, I am here in representation of the dragons, but any such designation would be informal and unofficial. I was told by a sailor that you had a female dragon knight in your company; naturally I had to investigate since I have never heard of such a thing, but all I find is a young kitchen maiden with broodlord armor. When I questioned Tatrice as to where she acquired the armor, your Lady Shey convinced me that Tatrice is no dragon knight, so I am as perplexed as you. My quest is foretold by the dragon seers as a quest of great importance, and that I am to find a dragon knight like no other. But officially, I am just a traveler like you, seeking truth.”

  “Did Tatrice tell you the story of Signal Hill?” Gondrial asked.

  “Aye, you all are very lucky to have gotten out of that forsaken place alive, very impressive indeed.”

  “I thought so. People tend to loosen their tongues around you freely, Sir Knight.”

  Dorenn watched as Rennon, his twitching nose and searching eyes gave him away. Rennon did not believe the broodlord’s explanation.

  “Broodlord, I have always been led to believe that dragon knights were very secretive, yet you give us information generously, why?” Dorenn asked for Rennon’s sake more than for himself.

  Bren drank down his ale. “You know little of the ways of dragons. For this reason, and other reasons, I normally keep to myself. I am a dragon knight and a fellow passenger on this journey of life. Anything that interests my dragon friends also interests me. I have no reason to doubt your sincerity.”

  “Do the dragons have seers?” Vesperin asked.

  “Of course they have seers,” he eyed Vesperin, “and clerics of Loracia, you may be surprised to hear.”

  Vesperin was surprised. “What god does your master worship?”

  “Enough questions for now, lads,” the broodlord said, “I would like to enjoy your company, but if I make you uncomfortable I will depart.”

  “No need for that.” Gondrial said. “The boys will stop badgering you.” He made point to drive his message home.

  Dorenn took another gulp of his ale, and the room began to spin around him; a sharp pain ensued at his temples. He looked up, saw the laughing faces of his friends, and realized they perceived nothing wrong. Dorenn tried to speak, but no words came from his mouth. In his mind’s eye, he saw a snake in a nest with young chicks. He tried to reach and help the young birds by grabbing the snake, but when he reached out, fire leapt from his hand, burning the nest to cinders. The snake burst into flames, and then the tree caught fire, and finally the forest was ablaze. Dorenn was trying to put out the flames, but something was pulling him away. Am I dreaming? he thought.

  “Open your eyes, lad!” Bren was fanning his face with his huge hands. Dorenn lethargically opened his eyes to see he was on the floor. Bren began shaking him vigorously. “Ah, there we go. No more ale for you tonight, I think,” he said, helping Dorenn to his feet.

  “Something is wrong,” Dorenn said as he sat back in his chair.

  “Aye, Something is wrong! You’re drunk! Rennon said laughing. “And you fell out of your chair!”

  “No, something else is wrong. The ship is sailing. We are being left here.” He gasped as he had an epiphany. He looked down at Dranmalin at his side. The sword seemed to be speaking to his mind somehow. “Not everyone is who they seem to be.”

  “I think we need to get back to the ship and put you to bed, Dorenn,” Gondrial said. “I have never seen an innkeeper’s son that could not hold his ale before.” Gondrial downed his ale and then stood up. “Let’s get him back to the ship.”

  “Wait a moment, let me see if he is ill,” Vesperin said as he put his hand on Dorenn’s forehead. Vesperin mumbled a prayer and then opened his eyes wide. “What is happening to you, Dorenn?” he mumbled.

  “I don’t know. Get to the ship!” Dorenn put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Bren looked down and noticed Dranmalin for the first time. “By the gods, that’s the dragon hammer. The boy is having a Lora Den, a dragon dream in your tongue. I will check on the ship.” Bren sprinted out of the tavern with unimaginable speed. A few moments later, he rejoined them. “The ship is safely moored at the dock. There is no sign of any disturbances. Are you certain you are all right, Dorenn?”

  “No, I’m clearly not all right.”

  Rennon put his hand on Dorenn’s forehead. “It feels like you may have a fever.” He pulled a piece of Asber Bark from his pouch. “Here, chew this.”

  Dorenn took the bark and began chewing it.

  “We need to find Ianthill as soon as we get back to the ship. He will know what is happening,” Gondrial said.

  Dorenn found it incre
asingly difficult to walk and talk the closer they came to the ship, and Bren had to carry him the rest of the way. Vesperin began mumbling his healing prayers, and Gondrial went to find Ianthill.

  Dorenn tried to hold on to what he was seeing and feeling, but other images were clouding his mind. “What is happening?”

  As soon as they got Dorenn into bed aboard ship, Rennon had Bren fetch some water from the galley. Vesperin went to find more blankets.

  “What is happening to me? Rennon?”

  “Bren has gone to fetch you some water, Dorenn,” Rennon said. “Lie still and try not to talk.”

  “What in the name of Ashonda is going on here?” Ianthill asked as he entered the room. Ianthill’s face was ashen, and sweat beaded up on his brow.

  “I think he will be fine, Ianthill; it must have been all that ale,” Rennon said.

  “Ale? How many did he have?”

  “Three Lux Amarou Stout ales, I think,” said Gondrial.

  “Aye, I believe that is the correct amount,” Bren said as he returned with a tankard of water.

  “Lux Amarou ale! I am surprised he can still walk,” Ianthill said.

  “Actually, I carried him.” Bren said.

  “I see, well, I don’t think there is anything nefarious going on here; just a case of someone who cannot handle his ale.” Ianthill patted Dorenn on the head. “Get some sleep now, boy, if you can.”

  Vesperin and Rennon stayed in the cabin with Dorenn while Bren took Gondrial and Ianthill aside. “You may want to speak to the captain, Master Ianthill.”

  “Oh, why is that?” Ianthill inquired.

  “After I carried Dorenn to his cabin, I went to fetch him some water. I found the captain had been preparing to leave. He had pulled the moorings but had not retracted the gangplank yet. I believe our sudden return from the tavern might have caught him off guard. The boy’s vision of the ship leaving may not have been far off the mark.”

  Gondrial tugged at his goatee. “If he didn’t pull the gangplank first, he was probably trying to sneak off.”

  “Aye, the crew was moving about, making ready to sail. I had a, well, let’s say discussion with the captain and first mate. They both should be conscious by now if you would like to question them.”