“He doesn’t strike me as the stable sort,” Myranda said.
“Agreed. And regardless of the outcome, there will be consequences. If there is even a kernel of truth to what I’ve heard thus far, there can be no doubt that this attack, purposeful or not, was perpetrated by a woman native to your kingdom while our lands were observing a truce. That is an act of war, and more than enough reason for troops to march once more. If there is no kernel of truth, then a representative of my military took Alliance nobility prisoner without cause, which is more than enough justification for your people to resume the war again. I can foresee no circumstance in which what has happened here will not lead to more bloodshed.”
Myranda took a slow breath. “What matters is the truth, Grustim. We were sent here to find it and to offer what help we could to the people who need it. I can assure you that Queen Caya, myself, and all who have a stake in the continued prosperity of the Northern Alliance have no interest in further combat. We will return to the front only to defend ourselves. But whatever happens will happen. What matters is that we find the person responsible for all of this and stop her before she can hurt anyone else or do any more damage.”
The footsteps of the returning soldiers echoed down the hall.
“And if it is found that war is inevitable. How far does your dedication extend?”
“I will not leave that woman loose in your kingdom, and I will not allow her to escape justice if it is deserved.”
Grustim stared at her evenly. “On this matter, we are of one mind.”
The soldiers reached them, the jailer holding the thin booklet. He presented it to Grustim.
“Thank you. Well done,” Grustim said. He flipped the pad open and reviewed the recent messages. As he did, he addressed Myranda one final time. “Your dragon has been… trying. Is there anything you might suggest that would make her somewhat more willing to behave?”
Myranda grinned. “I don’t suppose you have any potatoes.”
“They are not a crop cultivated this far south, and certainly not among the provisions of this stronghold,” replied the jailer.
“I keep a few in my bag. If you offer one to her, she’ll know it is from me. It might make her behave herself.”
Grustim nodded again. “Something to keep in mind, should she become destructive again.” He paused on one of the pages of the pad, a more serious expression flickering briefly across his face.
“If you are prepared, the commander has been anxiously awaiting your return, Rider,” said his footman escort.
The Dragon Rider turned to the men. He held the pad in his hand, its pages facing Myranda. He subtly tapped the page, which described the attack on the capital. She read the words, though through a force of will he couldn’t help but admire, Myranda managed to keep an even expression.
“I suppose I’d best not keep him waiting any longer,” Grustim said, closing the pad and pocketing it.
#
When Grustim was led back into Brustuum’s quarters, he found a meal had been set out. Like the quarters themselves, the meal was simple by most standards and extravagant by the standards of a soldier. It was stewed vulture, a delicacy in so much as any reasonably fresh meat was a rarity for those stationed in a desert stronghold, and vulture was among the only beasts that might venture near enough to the keep’s walls to be hunted during the day. The smell of the dish was a unique one, as the greens were a combination of the tenacious and strong-scented herbs that could be gathered from the dunes, and various dried vegetables and fruits from the stronghold’s stores. The combination of such bizarre and potent ingredients made for an aroma that was not only powerful, it was barely tolerable.
“Ah, well timed, Grustim. I thought it appropriate that we share a meal while we complete our discussions.”
Grustim took a seat and looked firmly at Brustuum.
“I appreciate the hospitality, Commander. At present my curiosity exceeds my appetite, but I assure you I will partake when the mood strikes.”
“Very well. You’ll forgive me if I take my meal while we speak.”
“Do as you will.”
Brustuum dipped his spoon into the bowl. “Now where were we?”
“You were curiously intent on preventing me from tracking down your runner to save him the time and effort of delivering bad information.”
“Ah yes. It should be no concern to you if my messenger does not carry the newest information. Instead, I would suggest you take careful note of my recommendations, then deliver the message of both the capture of the nobles and the nature of the attack directly to the capital, with information to disregard the runner’s message. The messenger will not mind. My men are quite accustomed to desert exercises.”
Grustim nodded. “So it would seem.”
Brustuum paused in chewing. “… Your tone suggests there is more to that observation than the words imply.”
“If I remember correctly, you say the prisoner escaped, and thus this disaster occurred, at noon.”
“Indeed.”
“And you lost only five men.”
“That is correct.”
“Out of over fifty.”
“Yes. Is there a point to this reiteration?”
“Most of your keep is devastated. There are still piles of rubble blocking many passageways. How is it possible that only seven men were badly injured, and only five of them killed? At noon in a desert stronghold I would have expected the bulk of the soldiers to be indoors.”
“My men are on field rotation. For five to ten days at a time.”
“Where do these men go, and how far?”
“It varies. During our more recent maneuvers we were searching for, and eventually found, the woman who would go on to commit this heinous attack upon the base.”
“And the current low complement of troops at this base is due to that?”
“It is.”
“So you did not see value in recalling a squad of troops searching for a woman who you had already found. Despite the very real possibility that she would be armed with tactics that would make her difficult to contain.”
Brustuum growled. “We had no way of knowing the woman’s capacity.”
“You described her as having decimated a nomadic settlement. One must assume there was some indication of her capacity there.”
“I do not appreciate your tone, Rider.”
“And I don’t appreciate being lied to, Commander. Let me tell you what I believe. I believe you wish to dissuade me from finding your runner to the north because there is no runner to the north. At this moment, in your stable, there are two messenger falcons awaiting messages to deliver, and two roosts for them to do their waiting. If none were available when you first apprehended the woman, then certainly at least one of them had been available shortly after. And if not that, then surely in the day since the attack you would have dispatched one to request aid. Instead they both sit, unused.”
“You assume too much…”
“It seems assumptions are all I have. I know for certain that some of your claims are lies, and until I am able to determine otherwise, I shall be forced to assume that any of what you’ve said could be untrue. The only evidence I have that you haven’t simply fabricated the entire story is the fact that the duchess, through means of her own, has received word of a woman matching the description you gave. That woman attacked their capital, which I think you’ll agree is a curious action for someone we are to believe is acting on their behalf.”
“How has the duchess received a message? And how dare you believe her but disbelieve me.”
“I do not take her word as gospel, Commander, but at least she hasn’t told a lie to my face that could be easily disproved. Tell me. If I were to take to the sky and find the remainder of your men on their maneuvers before you can contact them, how much of what they say will corroborate what you’ve said?”
Brustuum clenched his fist around his spoon, brandishing it as if it were a knife. “You would enter my qu
arters and accuse me of such things? You would call me a liar to my face!”
“You are a liar at best, Commander. But that much I can abide. What stings me most is that you are inept even at that. You insult me by imagining I could not see through such hasty untruths. You claim to have lost over a dozen prisoners and yet I see no graves. Would you have me believe that those men are still within the ruins, baking in the desert heat without my knowledge? You are hiding things, Commander. You’ve been locked away in this stronghold too long, surrounded by people who are unwilling or unable to question your authority. It has given you the impression that you are infallible and beyond the reach of repercussion. I assure you, you are neither. Your inadequacy and poor decisions have certainly cost the lives of your men and may have cost the peace of our nation.”
The commander slammed down his good fist, spilling the contents of his bowl across the table.
“This is an utter outrage, and if you believe that I will stand idle while you make baseless accusations, you are sadly mistaken.”
“My accusations are hardly baseless, and standing idle is precisely what I expect you to do. I am at once a diplomatic escort, a military officer with a rank equivalent to yours, and above all, a Dragon Rider. No one with a head on his shoulders has ever willingly defied the will of a Dragon Rider.”
“And now you threaten me?”
“I am merely informing you of what you seem to have forgotten. I would recommend you explain the irregularities of your story so that we might deal with them appropriately. My chief concern is why you failed to inform your commanders of the capture in the more than adequate time you had to do so.”
“Men!” Brustuum bellowed.
Two armed soldiers entered, weapons ready.
“This man has confessed a greater loyalty to our enemies to the north than to his own kingdom,” Brustuum stated, causing both men to brandish their weapons warily. Brustuum stood painfully and glared down at Grustim. “You have forgotten something as well, Rider. You may be a Dragon Rider, but you’ve sent your dragon away. And in siding with the duke and duchess, you have labeled yourself a traitor. Undeserving of mercy, worthy only of the swift execution that your crimes have earned you. Footmen, do your—”
“Commander, before you make the latest in a long line of tactical errors, I suggest you take a moment to consider what will occur when my dragon returns to find me killed. You have a fraction of your men, most of them injured, and a badly damaged keep. Garr is an impeccably trained dragon mount in prime condition. A dragon is not a horse, Commander. It will not remain docile and await a new Rider. He and I are brothers in arms, partnered for battle for years. He will be furious, and there is but one way for a dragon to deal with such matters. I wouldn’t favor your odds even if your stronghold was at full strength.”
Brustuum hesitated. “We have been trained to deal with dragons.”
Having blades pointed at him seemed to have expended what little patience and restraint Grustim had left. “How stupid do you honestly believe I am, Commander? Your men thought they could lock the duchess’s dragon away in a stable! They needed my help just to keep her inside! And even with the best training, which you most assuredly do not have, you aren’t equipped to deal with dragons. The only way you and your men will survive this is if you stop this foolishness and tell the truth.”
The commander stood as defiantly as he could with the injuries he’d suffered. Both of his men remained loyal and resolute, awaiting his next order.
“You are incorrect, Dragon Rider. You shall not be killed. You shall be captured. And when your dragon returns, you shall order him to destroy the Alliance dragon. You will do all that we say, or you will be killed. Is that understood?”
Grustim stood, unintimidated and unimpressed. “That the fate of nations could have fallen into the hands of a man such as you makes me wonder if the gods have grown weary of us.” He crossed his hands behind his back. “Take me prisoner, if you believe it will do you some good. But while you await Garr’s return, I urge you to take stock of the situation and reassess your decisions. I do not know all that you’ve done, but I know enough to be certain that you’ve committed a number of heinous deeds and that you are quite likely hiding things far worse. When the time comes, I’ll do my best to keep you alive long enough to answer for what you’ve done.”
“You are a boastful and arrogant fool, Grustim. If you are representative of the other Dragon Riders, it sickens me to think of the reverence that is wasted on you.” Brustuum turned to his men. “Confiscate his armor and weapons, investigate everything you find, and throw him in a cell. Bind him and gag him as well. I do not know how the Riders command their dragons, but I do not want him issuing any orders unless under my command and supervision. You have your orders.”
Grustim allowed himself to be removed from the room, leaving Brustuum to dig through his liquor cabinet in search of his bottle.
#
Myn lay in the stable, enjoying the warmth but increasingly displeased by the absence of Myranda and Deacon. She amused herself by locking a soldier in her gaze until he became visibly anxious at the stare. The people of Kenvard had become comfortable with her presence. Some of the children were even bold enough to scamper about her feet or try to climb on her back when she was padding through the streets. Though she would much rather be alone with Myranda, or grudgingly sharing her with Deacon, there was some measure of enjoyment at being a part of the lives of so many humans… at least until she grew weary of it. But these soldiers reminded her of the way the Kenvardians had behaved, when they had first met her. And the way most other people still did. A dash of fascination tempered with a torrent of fear. In the face of the people Myranda seemed to care about, such emotions were unwelcome to Myn. In the face of those who seemed to mean her only harm, it was quite rewarding to inspire such intimidation.
She’d been watching one man in particular squirm for the better part of an hour. Whenever her tongue flicked out, either to taste at the air or lazily lick her lips, the man practically leaped out of his skin. Thus, when the sun was briefly blotted out by a shadow despite the cloudless sky, her chosen target reacted with a startled cringe. A few moments later Garr shook the courtyard with a graceful but forceful landing, producing an audible yelp from the already tense soldiers. His stomach was subtly bloated, and his face had the contented ease of a carnivore after a heavy meal. Clutched in his teeth were the bodies of two creatures Myn had never seen before. He dropped them and sat on his haunches, eyes on Myn.
The female looked up at him reproachfully, then down at the prey he’d dropped. They looked to be birds, but far larger than anything Myn had seen in the north. Upright they might have stood as tall as a man, or taller. The heads and long necks had a sparsely feathered, almost half-plucked look to them, revealing coarse gray skin. Eyes larger than seemed necessary faced forward, and a cruelly hooked and serrated beak hung slightly open beneath them. Their bodies were plump and covered with sandy-yellow feathers ending in gray-brown ruffles at the tips of both the wings and the tail. Myn couldn’t imagine such a beast ever soaring through the air, as the wings were pitiful in comparison to the body, but the legs more than made up for them by being absurdly muscular at the thigh and long and bony at the shin and talons.
Myn looked back to Garr, who licked a few stray feathers from his lips and stared down at her. He stood again and took two steps closer, straddling the dropped prey with his forelegs before plopping onto his haunches again. Now looking far more directly down at her, he released a throaty rumble that shook the ground with its intensity and put the soldiers even more on edge. She turned her head aside, ignoring Garr. He dropped his head low, swinging it between his legs and nipping one of the birds to drag it forward. He nudged it just under her chin, then raised his head up again. She looked up to him, sniffed at the bird, then looked away again. Her stomach betrayed its emptiness with a gurgle and growl, but she didn’t so much as give the offered gift a nibble. He nudged the second
bird forward to join the first, but she continued to snub it. Then she heard something strange, a smooth clack of stone on stone.
This, if only for its novelty, piqued her interest enough to look to the source of the sound. Lying beside the meal, glistening in the sun, was a perfectly smooth, rounded stone about the size of a large loaf of bread. Dust had stuck to it where it had bounced across the ground, suggesting it had been wet. Likely he’d been carrying it in his mouth, tucked under his tongue. A stone so smooth almost certainly hadn’t been lying about among the dunes or in the dry plains surrounding the stronghold. It looked like a river stone. Garr must have traveled quite far in the hour or two he’d been gone to reach a river and return. She gazed intently at the stone, admiring it. The smooth gleam of its polished surface enhanced layers of different-colored stone. Fat lines of cream and yellow marbled the stone, interspersed with thinner ones of white, rose, and green. Just off center glinted a bright, shimmering stripe that caught the light with a metallic gleam. Though there was barely enough of it to notice via an instinct she’d seldom had use for, Myn could tell it was gold.
Garr interrupted her admiration of the stone with a soft, gentle rumble in his throat. She looked up to see him with an almost expectant look on his face, and behind it the tiniest glimmer of pride. She looked down again, taking in the beauty of the stone. And it was that which struck her most about the gift. Along the riverbed where he’d found the rock there were probably thousands of similar ones. Some would have been larger. Plenty would have had more gold, or been smoother, or been all one color or another. But Myn wondered if any other stone in the whole of the river would have been quite as pretty as the one he’d fetched and dropped before her. She looked again, feeling an odd flutter in her chest, but hardened her resolve and turned away.
Myn heard him stand again and release a quiet, breathy hiss. She noticed motion out of the corner of her eye and realized he was moving closer, reaching toward the stone. Without thinking, she thumped her paw over it and raked it into the shade of the stable before he could take it back. He backed away and dropped down comfortably to the ground. When she ventured a subtle glance in his direction again, his chest was puffed out in obvious pride and his lips were curved ever so slightly, giving him what on a more expressive creature would have been a wide smile.
The D'Karon Apprentice Page 30
