Travellers (Warriors, Heroes, and Demons Book 2)

by Dave Skinner

  Horns, a long snout, sunken eyes, and pointed teeth made Ran react immediately. “Away Garnock, get your people into the deep tunnels,” he said, but Garnock remained frozen in place, as did the other Gnomes. “Move!” Ran ordered as he pulled his sword, and the Gnomes scurried away. Ran stepped back as another thud sent more ice crashing to the floor. One more thud caused a large section of ceiling to break away. Four demonic faces stared down at him. One said something and then a burst of energy shot down from the hole. It grazed the side of the carving, causing the ice to shatter and explode away. To Ran’s surprise, it did not gouge into the image beneath. It was then that Garnock’s words finally made sense. The thing was not an image at all. It was a dragon buried in the ice.

  A second stream of energy was sent down from above, towards him this time. It burst over the head of the dragon, the head he had spent so much time uncovering, gouging the remaining ice from the face. The dragon’s eyes fluttered. Ran notched an arrow and sent the shaft into one of the faces above. They all pulled back. He notched another arrow. Through the hole Ran saw a large shape flap into sight. It banked and started a dive. For a moment he thought it was a teratorn, but then fire erupted from the beast’s mouth. It bathed the ice above him. Two creatures jumped through the hole, and fire followed them. Ran dove under the ice dragon, squirming in as far as possible. Intense heat seared his back. Some of the roof crashed down. The noise stopped.

  Ran rolled to his back to douse the flames he felt there and then came to his feet. The two creatures were on their feet also. Ran charged across the floor and slide under a massive arm as it was swung at him. His sword sliced away one leg, sending the thing to the ground. Ran came up onto his feet, but the other beast was already in the air springing towards him. It smashed into his side and sent him sliding across the floor to crash into the ice dragon’s front claw. The beast sprang at him again, but the ice dragon’s head shot up and the mouth snapped shut on the creature. The movement was so sudden that the thing did not even cry out.

  Dazed as he was, Ran still tried to crawl away, only to see a second dragon soar through the now open area above and land close by. A large clawed foot stomped down on the creature Ran had injured. He was surprised to hear the dragon speak.

  “My Queen, I am Ichaca, and I am at your service.”

  “Thank you, Ichaca. Are all the demons dead?”

  “I believe so, Your Majesty. I can no longer sense them.”

  “Good, then I need you to renew me with your fire, but first we should do something about this poor creature.” Ran figured he was the only poor creature around.

  “My fire will kill him. He is not a bother.”

  “No, do not kill him. He fought for me as you did, and I feel a bond with him, as if he has been with me for some time. Come here, creature.”

  Ran would have preferred to continue crawling away, but the dragon’s words were compelling. He turned and started crawling back.

  “They are not fast creatures, are they?”

  “Normally they are faster. I believe this one is injured.”

  “Oh, then I will help it.” A large claw closed around him. He was lifted towards the dragon’s mouth and held there. The mouth puckered. It was the only thing he could think to call the gesture, and then he was covered in a warm squirt of liquid. His position was changed and his back was covered the same way. The pain from the burns stopped, and he felt better than he had for years.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. I feel much better.”

  “Good. Move over behind Ichaca.”

  Ran trotted over behind the other dragon. Suddenly the temperature in the chamber rose tremendously, and he could see fire licking out at the sides of the beast he stood behind.

  “That is better,” he heard the dragon say. He peeked around Ichaca and stared. The ice dragon was now completely free of the ice and vibrant with life. Her scales shone a silver white that seemed to hint at other colours within.

  “Where will I find food in this dimension?” she asked Ichaca.

  “I do not know, my Queen. I have only just arrived myself.”

  “What brought you here?”

  “It is a long tale.”

  The white dragon sat down on her haunches. “All our tales are long. Try for some brevity.”

  “As you wish, your—”

  “And stop calling me that. My name is Milintica.”

  “Yes... Milintica. I brought a warrior to this land to reunite him with his people. They had just escaped from the Demon Lord’s army, but he had been left behind.”

  “And why did you do this?”

  “I owed him a debt. I was imprisoned on his world millennia ago by a wizard and forced to guard the Sword of Sacrifice. He freed me.”

  “The Sword of Sacrifice,” Ran exclaimed. “That was Mearisdeana’s lover’s sword. Have they returned?”

  “Yes. All from KaAn have come although many died in the war with the Demon Lord. They escaped their world using some type of crystals that they then destroyed so the Demon hoard could not follow them, but it probably will not work. There is a necklace that is still linked to their old world, and it has been lost. If it cannot be found and the link broken, the Demon Lord will have an easy time finding them again.

  Ran stood. “I must return then.”

  “I would help you, but I need food first,” the white dragon told him.

  “I will guide you to a world I like,” the other dragon said. “It has plenty of food and is suitable for our kind.”

  The white dragon turned her head towards Ran and contemplated him for some time. “I feel a bond between us that I find pleasing. Perhaps I will return in time, but until then I thank you for your aid against the demons.”

  She turned to the other dragon. “Lead me to food, Ichaca.”

  Both dragons sprang into the air. The wind from their beating wings pushed Ran from his feet and across the ice floor. Flat on his back he watched as they beat their way up through the broken roof and disappeared from his sight.

  Chapter 53

  Bray’s horse neighed and shook its head. “He smells the mares. They must be close,” he told Aramas.

  The courtier just grunted. His riding skills had improved during their travels, but not enough to let him smile. In fact, not much made Aramas smile these days aside from thoughts of home. Tracks led off to a campsite away from the road where Kat and Lee sat beside a fire. Waycan appeared out of the trees with an armful of firewood as they swung down from their mounts. Shortly, they all gathered around the fire. Kat passed out bowls of stew. It was nicely spiced. She was good with herbs and spices.

  “Anything new, Bray?” Kat asked. Bray shook his head, preferring eating over answers.

  “Same thing,” Aramas said. “The closer we get to Nadia, the more disbelief we find. They scorn the message from the Wizard’s Council.”

  After leaving Cold Town, the last small coastal city, Bray and Aramas had headed north, up the Cold Town river to the mining communities. Bray had spoken in the inns and mining centres they encountered, telling his story, telling of the battle to come, and the need for unity. Usually Waycan, Kat and Lee travelled a day behind them, listening to the comments and opinions being voiced after Bray left, gauging the atmosphere his words created. This time, however, instead of following up the river to the smaller communities, they had pushed ahead along the coast road. They were close to Nadia now, no more than a seven-day ride would see them within its walls. It was time to separate.

  Bray put down his bowl. “Cold Town?” he asked.

  “The Guards sent a rider towards Nadia the day after you left.” Waycan told him. “You must be careful now, Bray. They are waiting for you. I fear an ambush and assassins.”

  “Not the King’s style,” Aramas said.

  “How can you say that? He’s had assassins searching the country looking for Bray for years,” Lee stated.

  “But now he knows that Bray is coming to Nadia. He wants to see Bray die, and he need
s a few key people to see it happen to reassert his position and quell the storiess we have started.”

  “I hope you are right, Aramas. Bray’s life depends on it.” Kat shook her head. “I dislike these stories of the arena and the spectacles being staged there. If Bray is sent to the arena instead of being taken to the king’s court, we will not be able to help him.”

  “Trust me,” Aramas told her. “I served his son for many years. I know how the king thinks.”

  “We should go,” Waycan said as he stood. “How far will you be behind us?”

  “We will camp here for two days before we move on. That should give Lee plenty of time.”

  “I will leave the rest of the stew for you,” Kat told them. Bray stood and she wrapped her arms about him. “Be safe, my son.”

  Waycan grasped his arm. “May the Mother walk at your side, Bray.”

  “And at yours,” Bray answered.

  Lee came into his arms and held him for a long time. “I love you, Bray,” she whispered.

  “And I love you, sister,” he responded.

  When she pushed away from him, there were tears in her eyes and a look on her face that he could not interpret.

  The three Travellers were soon packed and mounted. As they started their horses towards the road, Bray’s call stopped them. He scrounged in his pouch and then flicked a coin towards Kat. She caught it, looked it over, and then secured it in her pouch.

  “Be careful,” she said before they rode away.

  “Was that the coin from Waysley?” Aramas asked.

  “Yes. Bentback gave one to Ran and one to me before we left. It will help with the introduction in Nadia.” If everything goes as planned, he added to himself.

  ***

  Nadia looked different to him. It looked shabbier, but he had been a child when he left, and growing up in the palace had probably given him a different perspective than most. As they neared the gates, he felt what, apprehension? Questions tumbled through his head. Am I doing this because of the war to come, or for revenge on my uncle? Will I ever be free of Nadia? Does it matter?

  They were watching for him. Could he and Aramas make it past the gate? Would their disguises work? Aramas had cut Bray’s hair short in the Nadian style. The courtier had grown a beard to hide his features, but it was trimmed to such an extent that he still looked like a member of the court, as far as Bray was concerned. Lots of people were entering the city. The gates were narrower than the roadway, so people had to slow down, converge, and shuffle forward. The guards looked observant, but no one stepped forward to challenge them, no one ordered them to stop. They passed into the city.

  They had left the horses at the last inn, preferring to look like locals visiting the city instead of travellers from afar. The street they walked was packed earth which surprised Bray. He remembered stone walkways. The buildings looked like the ones in his memories, one-and-two-story stone structures. Some had metal gates that led to courtyards paved with stone. Others, obviously businesses and offices, had doorways that led straight into the interior. As they travelled further into the city, shops and eateries appeared. He followed Aramas who eventually approached an inn named the Knife’s Edge. Bray noticed the pendent of Nadia on a flag above the door.

  “Is it wise to stay at a place acknowledged by the court?” he asked.

  “Not to worry. The old king stopped here for a meal once. No one from the court has come here since, but the sign allows them to keep the prices higher, and keep the common folk and the soldiers away.”

  Aramas made arrangements for a room. The innkeeper showed no special interest in them, in fact he treated them rather coolly. “The midday meal is finished,” he informed them. “Dinner will be served when the bell rings. Drink is always available in the common room. We have an excellent Nadian wine from the king’s finest vines.”

  “We will retire to our room to cleanup first. Is it a red or white wine?”

  “Red.”

  “How unfortunate, the white is always better,” Aramas told him. The man raised his eyebrows, but his eyes stayed cold.

  After dropping their packs in their room, they cleaned the dust of the road away and returned to the common room. Being the only occupants of the room they received prompt service.

  “We will try the red wine, if you please, Innkeeper,” Aramas told the man before he turned to Bray. “As I said, the white is better, but the red is still quite palatable, but”—he lowered his voice—”it often leaves too much aftertaste for my liking.”

  The innkeeper brought the wine in glass goblets, the first of their kind Bray had ever seen. Aramas held it up to the light and examined it, stuck his nose into the top of the glass to smell it, and then took a sip. Bray saw him swallow and then draw air in through his mouth.

  “Quite palatable,” he proclaimed. His next mouthful was substantial.

  Bray drank some of the liquid. He found it tasty with a hint of blackcurrant, but he did notice the slight aftertaste Aramas had mentioned. It seemed to disappear after his third mouthful. His head began to spin. “Very strong,” he mumbled as his head found the table top.

  “Step two complete,” he heard Aramas say.

  ***

  Bray’s head was throbbing when he regained consciousness. He was on the floor in a small cell. Aramas was not with him. His mouth was dry and felt like his beard had grown into it. A small window high in one wall told him it was night. Daylight had brightened the cell twice before he heard the jingle of keys approaching, followed by the sound of the lock being turned. His cell door opened, and two armed guards with swords drawn confronted him.

  “Up, killer,” one told him. “Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”

  His wrists were tied together with woven leather thongs, and he was led away. Having been without food and water for two days, Bray was exhausted by the time they had climbed the three sets of stair that brought him before two large carved doors. He remembered them. They led to the throne room. He remembered it as a cold, solemn room in his grandfather’s day. It had never rung with the sound of music that emanated from it now.

  Two other guards opened the door. Bray squared his shoulders and stood straighter as his guards led him in. The room was moderately full of richly-dressed people holding glasses of white wine. His mouth tried to water but nothing happened. He swallowed air. A dancer was moving in elaborate, sensuous, leaps and twists on the floor in front of the throne where a man, who looked disturbingly like his father, lounged. This man had a slighter build, and thinner hair, but the resemblance was there. Bray kept his eyes locked to the man and ignored everything else in the room. Eventually the dancer finished. The audience applauded and the room went silent. The king motioned and the guards brought him forward.

  “Finally, my son’s killer. The pretended to the throne arrives to face my justice.” He slurred the word justice.

  “Hello, uncle,” Bray responded. “I see you removed Grandfather’s picture.” The king looked startled and almost turned to look behind him.

  “I have always been curious,” Bray continued. “Did you have him assassinated like you did my father?”

  “Shut up!” the king shouted. One of the guards tried to drive a fist into Bray’s jaw. Bray shifted slightly, the fist missed, and the man stumbled.

  “Seriously, uncle, Grandfather was the vision of health when Father and I left, but one year later he was dead. How did you do it? Poison? An assassin?”

  This time the guard did not miss. Bray sprawled on the floor.

  “Get him up!” the king roared. Bray was pulled to his feet.

  “You are charged with the murder of the Crown Prince.”

  “So are you, uncle, and possibly the king as well.”

  Bray went down again. Ran hit me harder than that when I was twelve, he thought, as he was pulled to his feet.

  “Bring the witness forward,” the king ordered.

  Aramas strutted out of the assembled crowd and advanced to stand betwee
n the king and Bray. He was dressed as finely and colourfully as anyone in the room. He fairly shone with health.

  “It was Aramas who brought the killer to us. You also were present when he murdered my son, were you not?”

  “I was, Your Highness.”

  The king drank from his wine glass. “Well, tell us about it,” he sputtered when Aramas failed to continue.

  “We had sailed to Upper Thesala to partake of a glyptodon stew everyone was raving about. When we arrived, the innkeeper had just served the last bowl to the accused. The Crown Prince ordered the man to give it to him, but instead Bray ate some. Your son jumped up and challenged Bray to a duel. He then ordered his three companions to bring Bray outside to face him. He often did that when he challenged someone. His men usually beat the opponent before taking him outside. They charged Bray. He killed them before he took Prince Argon’s swords from his possessions and went out to meet your son. It was a fair fight. Bray was simply better.”

  The King had been sitting forward on his throne with his mouth hanging open as Aramas talked. “Lies!” he shouted.

  “No, Majesty. I did not tell you that I recognized Bray as Argon’s son, but you were aware of the rest of the account.”

  “You... you... told me he was a pirate,” the King sputtered.

  “No, Majesty. You were the one who named him as pirate. I never understood where that came from until Bray mentioned that the pirate Singh had been paid to assassinate his father. Then it made sense.”

  “Did you kill your own father, uncle? I am still unclear about that,” Bray said.

  The king staggered up from his throne sputtering. “No!” he screamed. “I loved my father. It was your father who had to be removed.”

  The room was suddenly silent. Then Bray heard two moans from his guards as they fell to the floor. His bindings fell away and a familiar object was pushed into each hand.

  “Thank you, Lee. Good dancing.”

  “Last step, brother, and thank you for noticing.”

  Bray stepped forward and moved towards the king.

  “My Prince,” Aramas said, as he passed.