Eastward Dragons

by Andrew Linke

  Yes, she thought. These were exactly what she needed.

  ⫛

  “We have no way of determining who the murderer is?”

  “It would involve a significant effort, my lord,” Sunil Diventru said. He glanced from his king, to Biho Erdenech, to the mysterious heretic Rajin. To the side of the chamber, the spice merchant Havil A’Mar was slumped in a chair, seemingly transfixed by the mural on the wall across from him. “When I was commander of the New Tower, your half sister killed two dreamers in their beds. She claimed that they were about to release a gythral and that by killing them she had stopped the beast from crossing over.”

  “What does that have to do with the poisoning of Oppen Ralva? And, now that you mention her, where in all the hells in Neasa?” The king swore and stalked to a side table to pour himself a glass of wine. “Do not tell me that she is dead as well.”

  “To my knowledge, Neasa is alive. According to the guards at the door, she departed the Leaning Timber several minutes before Oppen’s death saying she had business to attend to before she left the city.”

  “I can attest to that, King Berech,” Rajin interjected. “She and I spoke at length before I returned to the table.”

  Sunil grimaced at being interrupted, but pressed forward. “The point of my story is that when Neasa Veatro killed two dreamers, and confessed to the deed, it still took nearly ten days for us to determine whether or not she ought to be punished for the deed, in accordance with the rules of the military court. In that time, we interviewed a dozen other guards and as many dreamers and scholars. Investigations are long, tedious, drawn-out affairs. I already spent the entire first watch of the night interviewing all of the servers and none of them could give evidence of how the poison found its way into Oppen’s cup.”

  “I truly hope that you are not saying what I believe you are,” Biho muttered.

  “Master Ralva is dead. His family and guild will want an accounting for that, but there is no reason to delay the expedition. For all we know, this was an old enemy seeking to get revenge on master Ralva before he left town.”

  “Because translators make so many enemies,” Biho sneered.

  “Would you have us delay this expedition?”

  “What if the killer was one of the expedition members?” King Berech said. “Would you willingly travel to the end of the earth with a murderer?”

  “I already am,” Sunil said, nodding his head towards Rajin. “You have appointed a notorious killer and heretic as the guide and chief counselor of this mission.”

  The king gave Sunil a tired smile and shook his head. He sipped from his wineglass, grimacing at the bitterness of the spiced wine. He ought to be in bed at this hour, not overseeing a murder investigation.

  After a time, King Berech nodded to himself, looked up at the assembled men, and said, “We will proceed with the expedition. Master Ralva’s acolyte was to travel with him. Now he will serve as chief translator, assisted by lady Zlata as needed. Captain Sunil, you will write down your investigation notes and see them delivered to the chief investigator before you got to sleep tonight. He will carry on the investigation in your absence.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Sunil said. “If I may…”

  “Go.”

  Sunil bowed to his king and turned to leave the room. He would go to one of the scribe chambers and write his report as quickly as he could, then return to the docks so that he could catch some sleep before the dawn tide.

  As the door closed behind Sunil, King Berech turned to Havil A’Mar and said, “Master Havil, are you well?”

  Havil stirred in his seat, then sat upright and nodded. “Yes, my lord. I have just never witnessed…” Havil shuddered, then collected himself and rose to his feet. He bowed slightly and said, “I am prepared to serve the Commonwealth, your majesty.”

  “Then go and get yourself some rest. You will be no good to the Commonwealth if you fall over a rail and drown tomorrow because you have had no sleep. Take a draught and go to sleep.”

  “I will, my lord, but first…” Havil looked nervously from Rajin, to Biho, to the king. “Who will lead the expedition now?”

  “Are you volunteering?” the king asked.

  “As honored as I would be to take on that duty, you may have noted that my career bears a marked lack of managerial roles. I am a skilled negotiator and salesman, but to take responsibility for the lives of others is a task that I fear may be beyond me.”

  “Well, then you should not be upset that I am not going to call on you to take up the reins of this expedition, master Havil. I have another in mind.”

  Havil bowed, relieved. “I will take my leave then. Good evening, your majesty.”

  Once Havil was gone, the king returned to the sideboard and poured a second glass of wine. He carried it to Biho and proffered it to him. Rajin watched, one eyebrow raised, as the broad-shouldered guild master took the wine and raised the glass in salute to his king.

  “You are certain that you can make this journey, master Biho?” the king asked.

  “Positive, your majesty.”

  “And what of the affairs of the guilds? This is a sudden departure.”

  Biho lowered his glass, which he held with remarkable delicacy between his gigantic fingers, and nodded his ponderous head. “A good manager always ensures that the business of his guild can carry on in is absence. He makes his usefulness known, but ensures that he is not the single axel whose absence can break the cart.”

  Something in the tone of Biho’s voice told Rajin that he had not come up with that metaphor himself, but was quoting a text that he expected the king to recognize. Likely a treatise on the management of a guild, he decided. That was the problem with these Commonwealth types. To them, everything was business.

  “Rajin, will you acknowledge this man as the new leader of your expedition?” the king asked.

  “Do I have a choice?” Rajin growled.

  “No.”

  “Then I commend you on selecting such an imposing figure to represent the Commonwealth to the Dragon Lords. They would have respected Ralva’s knowledge, but they will be impressed by Erdenech’s strength.”

  The king laughed and raised his glass to Rajin, who did nothing to acknowledge the toast.

  The king and the new expedition leader drank deeply of their wine.

  ⫛

  The first rays of sunlight streaked across the tops of the elven wilds and pierced the early morning fog that lay over Brackwater Bay, painting the sails of nearly ten thousand ships a brilliant yellow. The fog burned away as the sun rose, revealing a broad waterway already churning with sailing vessels. Most of the ships traversed the waters of Brackwater Bay between Tal Albahi and the dozens of smaller cities built along the coast to the south and west, down towards the rocky shores and islands at the edge of the Silkie archipelago. Others traveled north, to the ports at which terminated the overland caravan routes from Coldwater Lake and the Tesni desert.

  Amid this hive of trade, three small vessels plowed northward, bound for the headwaters of the Brackwater where the salt of the bay gave way to sweet waters of the river Trau, and far beyond that to the shimmering tower of the Rainbow Falls and the unknown lands beyond.

  Rajin stood at the prow of the foremost ship, beneath the sweeping bulge of its triangular sail, breathing deeply of the salty air of the bay. If there was one thing that he did miss when sojourning in the sacred forests of the elves, it was the scent of salt water in his nostrils and the constant churn of a sea breeze through his hair.

  In his right hand he held, at last, the sword that had been taken from him when he had arrived at the palace so many months before. The grip was firm and cool in his palm, the tightly wrapped leather conformed perfectly to the grip of his fist. He drew the sword and examined it in the early morning light. It had not been harmed while in the possession of the king’s jailers. Not that he had truly been concerned that it would be, that it could be.

  A glint of white showed at the edge
of the blade, where Rajin imagined it might have clashed against another sword as the jailers played at soldier, jesting with one another at their good fortune at having the opportunity to hold the sword of such a legendary killer. He would have to find the pot of silvered polish that he had included in his personal effects and repair that mark.

  Light footsteps scuffed across wood and a the ladder from the main deck rattled behind Rajin. He slipped the sword back into its scabbard and turned to see Neasa approaching.

  “You missed all of the trouble last night,” he said, nodding towards the heights of Albahi upon which the capital city of the Trader Commonwealth grew like a particularly aggressive cluster of barnacles. “Your bastard brother asked after you.”

  “I am the one of illegitimate birth,” Neasa said, stepping onto the foredeck and moving to stand beside Raijin at the bow.

  “And yet I suspect that you are the more honorable one.”

  Neasa shrugged and leaned against the railing to peer down at the churning water beneath the prow. She had returned to the cramped cabin that she would share with five others aboard the dhow Saltrunner and stowed her newly purchased books in the locker beneath her hammock in the early hours of the night. Nobody had been aboard the ships, and the guards hired to protect them while the expedition was enjoying their final night in Tal Albahi had known nothing of the events at the Leaning Timber, so Neasa had settled onto the wash deck to read beneath the light of a rune lamp. It wasn’t until she was awoken by the lady Zlata and her consort whispering harshly as they boarded the ship that she learned of the fate of Oppen Ralva.

  “Have you spoken with our new leader?” she asked.

  Rajin nodded and stepped forward until he could see past the edge of the forward deck, across the crowded wash deck, and to the raised stern deck, where Biho Erdenech reclined in a hammock chair beside the second new addition to their party. “I have yet to speak with the priest, however.”

  “Neither have I. Do you know how he came to be aboard our ship with so little warning?”

  “Ordered by the king. He was concerned for the moral tone of the expedition, after hearing of the lady Zlata’s choice of establishment for a final meal. Fortunately, it seems that your sanctuaries are veritably swarming with healthy young priests just itching to get out and explore the world, so he was able to join up on short notice.”

  “Lucky for us,” Neasa said.

  Raijin turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “Truly? Do you think it is wise for an official representative of your religion to travel to a land where the entire foundation of their society is predicated upon the veneration of dragons?”

  Neasa shrugged. “If he brings comfort to us on the journey, I see no harm in it. Priests of the Wanderer are legendary for their acceptance of those who they encounter in their travels. Besides, did you not bring word that nobody in the east has actually seen a dragon in nearly twenty years?”

  Rajin felt his hand tighten upon the hilt of his sword and made a conscious effort to release his grip. The dragons had indeed gone unseen for many a year, but to his mind that only increased the danger. Even when he had last been in the Dragon Kingdoms, there were adherents of the draconic religion who proclaimed that the Dragon Lords and priests ought to increase their sacrifices in an effort to appease their missing gods.

  He looked from Neasa, to the priest, then to the distant horizon where the elven wilds shimmered behind the last wisps of mist. “I do not fear what harm he may cause. I fear what harm may come to him.”

  THANK YOU for reading episode one of Eastward Dragons. This is an ongoing serial novel which I intend to release as a series of fifteen episodes. As of this publication, episode two is nearly finished, episode three has been fully plotted, and I have an outline for the remainder of the first series. I’ve also got a plan in place for the second season and perhaps more after that, so if you enjoyed this story and want to see more, please make your appreciation and interest known online.

  Eastward Dragons takes place in a science fantasy universe that I call the Saga of Lashim. It is an old world. A world that has a deep, living, and occasionally terrible history. I use the term “science fantasy” for two reasons. Primarily, all of the magical and fantastical elements in Lashim have a rational explanation, within the logic of this universe. Even the most dramatic magical effect is consistent within the universe as I have imagined it. Additionally, the world of Lashim has an ongoing plot that extends into the future far beyond the time of Eastward Dragons. Several of those stories will have more in common with science fiction than the traditional elements of high fantasy.

  Your feedback is always welcome at my personal website or on the social web. It is always helpful, and often encouraging, to get feedback from readers.

  -Andrew Linke

  April 2015