by Dave Skinner
“The only limit is how much land you and your family can manage. As long as the farmers pay their taxes, the city leaves them alone to manage their own affairs. It is the same principle that the city uses. On paper, Bakerstown claims all the land to the south for the distance a man can ride in six moons, despite the fact that the roads only extend a small portion of the distance.”
“Do all the cities on the grasslands work the same way?”
“As far as I know they do. I—” Three horses whinnied and started tossing their heads. “Cats!” Jeroc jumped to his feet. “To your mounts,” he called needlessly. The hunters were all sprinting to their horses. Nailmoe and Mearisdeana followed the flow. Nailmoe made sure Mearisdeana was up before he sprang to saddle. His horse pranced and spun before he managed control.
“Line,” Jeroc called, and all the riders took position in two lines facing the direction the horses had been facing. “Lances ready. Forward at a walk.”
Nailmoe and Mearisdeana had been instructed to stay behind the line of riders, but not too far behind which suggested to Nailmoe that the cats could attack from any direction. When it happened, the cat sprang up from in front of the riders, roaring, muscles rippling, as it tore forward. Four fast bounds and the thing was in the air aimed straight for a lead rider, and then it was screaming in pain as two lances tore into its body. Two other cats attacked at the same time. Neither reached its target, but horses were rearing as riders struggled to regain control. Two cats were pinned to the ground by lances. The third was clawing and biting at the single lance that trailed from its body. Jeroc and another lancer were charging towards the injured sabretooth when another cat sprang from the grasses onto the back of Jeroc’s horse. Jeroc tumbled to the ground as the horse bolted, carrying the cat a dozen strides away from them before I went to its knees. Horse and cat sprawled on the ground while Jeroc scrambled to his feet and started to run. The cat rolled upright and tore after the running man. None of the hunters close enough to intercept the beast still had their lances. Nailmoe stood in his stirrups, hefted the lance like a spear and threw. The cat was in mid spring when the lance entered its body. In moments, two more hunters had reached it and driven their weapons home. The sabretooth hunt was over.
***
Jeroc was slurring his words and Nailmoe was getting there. Mearisdeana felt that the Dragon Man wanted to stop, but Jeroc insisted on buying him drink after drink. The other hunters were taking advantage of Jeroc’s near death experience to get roaring drunk as well. It promised to be a long night.
“Mearisdeana, I am returning to the ship,” Manda told her. “Will you stay or return with me?”
“I will go with you. Watching men drink to excess is not of interest to me. Let me tell Nailmoe first.” She rose from the table and made her way through the crowded room to the hunters. Nailmoe listened and nodded. Mearisdeana returned and the two women wound their way through the crowd and noise towards the door. They had almost escaped the commotion of the inn’s common room when the doorway was blocked by a figure in a black cloak who threw back her hood as she entered. Manda stopped and smiled at the newcomer.
“Barb. Well met.”
“Manda, finally, I have been searching for you.” The women embraced. When they broke apart, Barb looked around the room before she continued.
“I have news, but a quieter place would be better.”
“We were just heading back to the Witch. Come with us, and we will have a quiet drink in my cabin.”
“Good idea,” Barb acknowledged, as her eyes continued to graze the crowd. A roar of laughter from Jeroc’s table drew her attention. “Is that one of the Dragon People over there?” she exclaimed, and then her attention snapped back to Mearisdeana. “Dragon Lady, is it you?”
“Hello, Barb,” Mearisdeana said as she also brushed back the hood on her cloak revealing the whiteness of her unscaled face. “It is good to see you again.”
“And you.” Barb turned to Manda. “I think your cabin is a perfect place to share news. Let us go.”
The women stepped outside and made their way towards the docks. The night was lit by a giant harvest moon perched on the horizon. Manda and Barb talked about Manda’s father, Coran. Not much time passed before they were mounting the plank walkway to the Red Witch.
Mearisdeana had liked Manda’s cabin since the first time she saw it years before. It was large, and well-appointed. A built-in, stand-at desk occupied the right wall. It was bordered on both sides by square pigeon holes stuffed with rolled up charts. The left wall contained a clothes chest and a large bed. The rear wall contained a floor-to-ceiling square structure that housed the ruder mechanism and separated two glass doors which were open to a balcony. Everything was made of a rich, highly polished, reddish wood including a large carved desk. Behind the desk, and in front of the doors, sat a high-backed wing chair. In front of the desk a new chair had been added. Across it lay a Traveller’s cloak, as if waiting for its owner to return to claim it.
When they were settled with goblets of wine, Barb turned to Manda. “You have to explain why the Dragon People are back, but let me share my news first. I carried the Wizard of Waysley to a council meeting at Delta a few days ago. He asked about you and Ran. He wishes to speak with both of you.”
“Ran’s whereabouts are unknown to me.” Her voice was flat like the still waters of a sheltered bay.
“I told him as much, but he still wants to talk.”
“Did he say what it is about?”
“No, but I suspect it has something to do with the Dragon People being here.”
“How would he know we are here?” Mearisdeana asked. “We just arrived.”
“He is a wizard, child. They know many things and this one is especially good, although he looked in poor health while we were travelling. Not the man I remember from the battle, but, put that aside for now. Why are you and your husband back here?” she asked Mearisdeana.
“First, he is not my husband. My husband, Adamtay, is back at home. The man with me is named Nailmoe, my husband’s best friend and a trusted advisor.”
“Nailmoe!” Barb exclaimed. “The Nailmoe?” she asked turning to Manda.
“Yes, the same one,” Manda answered with a laugh.
“What do you mean by ‘the Nailmoe’? No one knew his name when they were here before. He was unable to speak your language, and people in Waysley called him Dragon Man.”
“Do you remember the barmaid from the inn you stayed at in Waysley?” Manda asked.
Mearisdeana remember the young girl clinging to Nailmoe on the day they returned to KaAn. She had wondered how he had managed to form a friendship with a woman he could not speak with. “I remember her. She guided Nailmoe, Adamtay and me to a swimming place. Tyrese, I think her name was.”
“Yes, Tyrese is her name. She wrote a story about her experience with Nailmoe,” Barb told her with a broad grin on her face. “I can tell you it was the hottest, sexiest thing I ever read.”
Mearisdeana groaned and placed her head in her hands, and then suddenly her head snapped back up. “Will it affect how people feel about us coming here?”
“Your people coming here?” Barb asked with disbelief in her voice. “Is that why you came back?”
“Yes, we want to cross the rift and settle here. Our world is engaged in a battle with a vicious enemy at home and we are losing the war. Escape is our only hope.”
Manda was lying on her bed, but now she stood and paced the floor. “I have no idea why Andoo Toran is looking for me, but talking to him about your people, Mearisdeana, is a good idea. He is a respected member of the Wizard’s Council. He will know the best route to take to get your people here. I’ll pick up a load of grain tomorrow, and we will sail to Marshtown.”
“Mearisdeana, it just occurred to me, should we call you something else now that you are married? I seem to remember that your name is made up of a first name and a family name. Is it different now that you are married?”
“No
t yet. I remain Mearisdeana until I have a child. Then I will become Mearistay. I look forward to that day.”
Chapter 34
Adamtay’s charger snorted and pranced before he managed to sooth him. His mount was battle trained and being this close to the attacking demons and ogres was making both of them anxious.
“Is this the usual size of the armies you face in battle?” King Terrintay asked.
“No, Father. This is the smallest one we have fought. I estimate this army is a third the size of what is usually brought against us. The number of large creatures—the demons—is even less than the number of ogres. Perhaps it is a new strategy.”
“I hope that is all it is,” Adamtay’s uncle said.
“What do you mean?” the king asked.
“I hope we are seeing all those being brought against us, and there is not something else we are missing. I have an uneasy feeling,” the court wizard replied.
Adamtay was watching the battle with growing concern. “The larger ones have almost broken through our line, Father. I must take a squad of lancers and break their advance before it is too late.”
“Yes, go,” Terrintay said.
Adamtay turned his charger and rode down from the crest of the hill and up another where mounted men, the Prince’s Own Lancers, waited. “First squad, follow me. We will drive a wedge into that group of demons and break their advance,” he told. “Second and third squad, clear the left and right respectively. Fourth squad will stand in reserve. Wait for my command.” He spun his charger, checked his lance in its boot. “Forward at a trot,” he commanded.
He reached the bottom of the hill and trotted forward until he was certain the full squad was on level ground and had formed into a fighting wedge. “Lances to hand,” he called, pulling his own lance from its boot and tucking the shaft under his arm. “Charge.”
Their mounts jumped forward and settled into a run. The bugler blew the signal and the soldiers facing the demons maneuvered to the sides. Adamtay and his men crashed into the demons and then they were through the enemy’s lines and turning their mounts for a return charge. Swords flashed in the sunlight as they slashed their way back through the enemy. The charge had broken the demon’s advance, but many of the beasts still lived. Adamtay had killed two more before his charger collapsed under him. He was thrown clear and came up to his feet with sword in hand, facing the demon that had unhorsed him. As the beast started forward, a cry unlike anything Adamtay had ever heard ripped across the battlefield. The demon looked skyward and died as the Sword of Sacrifice removed its head. A shadow fell across Adamtay. The cry sounded a second time, and then the world exploded into screams as fire rained down on the battlefield. Adamtay killed another demon that was running past him before he looked skyward. An enormous creature on bat-like wings was sailing across the battlefield, spuing fire. Men and the ogres they had been fighting erupted in flames all along the creature’s path. The thing suddenly banked in the air and started a return pass. Adamtay could see the flames coming towards him.
Two of his men had been fighting on foot beside him. “Run!” one screamed.
“No!” Adamtay roared. “Under the demons.”
Adamtay’s dead charger lay to one side and four demon bodies lay close. Dropping his sword, Adamtay grabbed a body and heaved it towards the dead charger. The two lancers did the same. In moments they had buried themselves under demon bodies with the charger’s body at their backs, just as a wave of intense heat blanketed them. The smell of roasted flesh invaded Adamtay’s nostrils. He could taste it, as he could taste the terror emanating from the men beside him.
“If Nailmoe were here,” Adamtay said. “He would complain about being hungry.” It took a minute, but eventually both men snickered.”
“And he would be right,” one added. “I could eat this charger it smells so good.”
***
When Adamtay finally dragged himself out from under the charred carcasses, he was met by a scene of destruction. The burned remains of bodies were everywhere. Reluctantly he turned his eyes towards the hilltop where his father and uncle had been positioned to over watch the fighting. Across the battlefield towards the hill, the ground was blackened and smoking with the exception of a few green, unburnt patches that had miraculously escaped the dragon’s fire. The base and hillside had suffered the same damage but, and he rejoiced to see this, the hilltop remained fully clothed in sparse but living vegetation and he could see the complete colour party in the process of remounting their chargers. Adamtay thought the tears in his eyes were making the scene shimmer until he saw his uncle make a sweeping motion with his hand and the shimmer disappeared, as if a bubble had burst. Around where the shimmer had been, all the ground was covered in black ash.
“Your sword, sir.” One of the soldiers pointed towards the Sword of Sacrifice as it lay partially covered in ash. Adamtay bent and retrieved it as the soldier continued. “It is the only weapon I see. My sword was near it, but all I can find is a pile of melted metal.”
“The magic of the sword must protect it, as well as allow it to cut anything.”
“Have you ever come across a material it will not cut?”
“It passes through someone who is making a sacrifice without causing damage. Other than that, I have found nothing it will not cut. It even cut an opening into a magically sealed tower, as well as the chains holding a dragon, and they were substantial.”
Adamtay and the two soldiers started moving towards the hill as a squad of lancers came into view along the hillcrest where the Prince’s Own Lancers had been situated.
“It looks like some of the boys managed to evade the dragon’s fire,” one of the men with him observed.
As if breaking out of a daze, Adamtay began to hear the sounds around him. The air was filled with the sobs and groans of men in pain. He came across a man crawling on hands and knees who he helped to his feet. Ahead he could see one of those miraculously undamaged spots. It became their destination. His companions were each helping other men before they reached it. Across the battlefield he could see other shapes moving. A bugle sounded, telling the men to give aid where possible, and the colour party started down the hill into the carnage. King Terrintay and the Royal Wizard rode to where Adamtay was tending to the injured.
“Are you hurt, Adamtay?”
“No, Father, but there are thousands of injured and dying here. We need transportation for the wounded and a burial detail. Uncle, can you magic a message to the castle to send help?” As he looked to his uncle, Adamtay realized the court wizard was ashen in countenance. He struggled to raise his head to answer the question, but it was beyond his ability.
“Neventay is in need of rest before he will be of use for anything. He held a protective shield above our party. It drained him. We will ride to the castle and send out help. You should return as soon as possible. There is much to discuss. I think we must try to hurry Mearisdeana along with her project.” He looked at his brother slouched beside him in his saddle. “If there is some way to do that.”
Chapter 35
“Do you feel that?” Andoo asked.
“What?”
“Power. Someone performed a strong magic. I can feel the residue.”
Micka stopped walking and concentrated. The boat from the delta had dropped them on the wharf leading to Marshtown. They were perhaps half way along the causeway when Andoo spoke. She let her sensitivity spread out towards the city. She felt it almost immediately. It raised the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. “I feel it,” Micka admitted. “Whoever did this has not dampened the residuals.”
“I doubt they have heard of residuals. This is raw power, unfettered.” He started walking again. “Let us find an inn. I need wine.”
Although her uncle looked better than he had when she arrived in Waysley, he was still recovering from his Vision quests, and the final days at the Wizard’s Council had not helped. He had argued vehemently against the action being proposed. Verity, the maste
r, had argued for the destruction of the necklace. “Yes, we owe these people for their help at Waysley, but not enough to destroy our world for them. We must break their link to our world before they arrive.” It was an effective argument, and Andoo tried ceaselessly to sway enough members to his way of thinking, but without success. So it was ordered that any wizard who came in contact with the necklace was to break the link immediately. It would leave the Dragon People without an escape route, but no one except Andoo seemed to care.
Entering Marshtown, they bypassed the first few sailor’s inns which, even at this time in the early afternoon, were noisy and crowded, eventually arriving at the Marshmellow, an inn that Andoo had used before, and one he assured her lived up to its name. They partook of a tasty stew and a fair wine before stowing their possessions in their room and going to look for the source of the magic they had felt. A few inquiries and following the tingle raised by the magical residue led them to Wet Foot Wanda’s.
“Before we enter you should deal with this residual energy. My hair is standing up on my head,” Andoo told Micka. “You need the practice. Have you ever dealt with Little People magic?”
“No, why?”
“Because that is what this is, or at least it has some of the components of fairy magic. I see a red tinge about it, so I would guess it has some Far Derrig influence.”
Micka built her spell carefully before moving to the edge of the boardwalk to unleash it. When nothing untoward happened, she breathed a sigh of relief. (There had been times at school when things blew up unexpectedly.) Returning to Andoo, they entered the inn. It was a large common room, brightly lit by window light. It was clean and crowded. All but one of the twenty or so tables was in use. She followed Andoo to the empty one. It was like walking towards a fairy ring. Magic had occurred at this table, strong magic. The innkeeper came up to them before they were seated.
