by LeRoy Clary
“That is all?” Quint asked, standing up on unsteady legs.
“No,” Dancer said. “There are stories of some of us become bonded with a dragon. In a fashion the dragon and man share thoughts, but it’s a rare thing that I never believed. Until today, that is.”
Quint looked at Raymer and rolled his eyes. “You share thoughts with a dragon and never told me?”
“I have never even heard of this word bonding until today.”
Fleet returned, confused, at first, looking from one and then the other. Instead of commenting or asking questions, he said, “There’s a valley up ahead. Crops of grain and several farm houses in sight. A road, too.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“We’ll avoid the farms and roads,” Quint said.
Dancer said, “The roads would be much quicker.” He turned and walked with purpose. The others following in a single line, but stayed close to each other while they talked and planned.
“If there are those who spy for the Aare, or for King Ember, their words will travel faster than us. They always do.” Quint said. “I wish to enter Castle Warrington unannounced and prevent any enemies from slowing, or even preventing, our advance.”
“How would they do that?” Ander asked.
Quint turned and shrugged, “I’m a big target who’s known to all in this province. One well-placed arrow and Northwood could easily lose the war before it properly begins.”
Raymer said, “We could buy a wagon and conceal you in it, but we have to balance recognition with speed and wagons are slow.”
“Keep us hidden as much as possible, Dancer,” Quint said.
They crossed the valley in the early morning when patches of fog lay in low areas. He took them around farms and homes because barking dogs protected most. Near one barn a dog caught their scent and charged. Dancer quickly moved them deeper into a treeline, and the dog lost interest.
They climbed under and over a dozen fences. Once a bull threatened to charge before retreating to the far end of the pasture. Candles and lanterns illuminated the windows of houses. Smoke rose from chimneys. Soon after, farmers began appearing as they started their day.
Dancer pulled to a stop beside an outbuilding. “Skulking around is going to draw more attention than walking in the open. It looks like we can take the road from here to the far side of the valley without passing too close to any farms.”
“What about travelers or soldiers watching the road?” Ander asked.
Raymer found he liked the question. Not because all of them hadn’t considered the same thing, but because Ander asked it. It revealed his intentions and that he was thinking like a warrior instead of a pampered son of an earl. “Not much choice. We look guilty and draw attention from anyone who looks our way, or we appear like any travelers, and nobody pays attention.”
They went out on the road and walked quickly, in a tight group. After a while, a farmer stacking hay, raised his pitchfork in greeting, then went back to his work. Other than him, they seemed to cross the remainder of the valley without incident. Nobody passed them on the dirt road, but in a rural area, not many traveled.
The ground rose and became an incline of another hill. Shrubs, underbrush, and trees lined both sides of the road. They found the crest of the hill and looked ahead. And there, was another valley, this time with a village situated along the road where a river cut the through the center.
Dancer asked, “Pass through it or go around?”
“Through it,” Quint said.
They walked down the slope and rounded a bend where one side of the road met a steep hillside while the other fell off a short cliff. In the center of the road stood a man.
The man had his fists on his hips and a cruel smile on his face. He was only twenty paces away, but waited, as if his very presence would stop them from passing.
“A good morning to you,” Dancer said at ten paces, without slowing.
“Not such a good morning for you,” the man snarled, raising a hand as a signal. Two others stepped out from the forest, arrows drawn and directed at the travelers. They wore clothing not much better than Raymer and Quint had worn in the dungeon, and their beards and hair were tangled masses of brown.
The first man continued, “Now, I’d ask you to drop any valuables on the road, and we’ll allow you to pass—after I inspect you for what you have hidden, of course.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Raymer asked, keeping his voice steady and doing his best to distract the man. Instead of halting as other travelers had probably done, Dancer hadn’t, and Raymer suspected what was to come.
The man looked to be middle-aged and slightly stooped. His beard showed streaks of gray, and as he clumsily fished a knife from inside his shirt, his evil grin displayed a broken tooth.
Dancer still hadn’t paused and was only a step away from the highwayman. He reached out and slapped the knife away with a backhand. In the same motion, he grabbed the man’s shirt with his other fist and pulled him closer, so close Dancer butted heads with him. The sound was a dull thud.
The man’s knees crumbled. Dancer spun the man so his body protected him from arrows. He reached out and grabbed the knife slipping from the loose fingers. He held it to the highwayman’s throat.
“Drop your bows,” Dancer called. “Now. We’re in a hurry, and it would be easier to leave this man dead than stand here and talk.”
Raymer and the others dropped to their knees to reduce the size of the targets they represented. Raymer watched the archers closely, expecting arrows to fly, and judging if he could sprint to them before they noched another. He would never make it. In doing so, he’d be the prime target. He decided running was the better option.
However, Quint had another idea. He stood still and shouted, “I am going to count to three and charge. I believe it will take at least five or six arrows to slow me but know this. I will be angry if even one arrow strikes me and for that I will rip the heads from both of your worthless bodies.”
Dancer added, “This man also loses his head when the first arrow flies.”
“One. Two. . .” Both archers turned and fled into the forest.
Raymer said, “You could have just told them who you are, If they killed you, a thousand soldiers would try to collect the reward for their heads.”
“Didn’t think of that,” Quint said. “Wouldn’t have worked any better.”
“At least, you wouldn’t have threatened to run right into their arrows,” Raymer said.
Quint gave him an odd look, “Threatened?”
“What about this one?” Dancer asked.
“Thanks to my big mouth, he knows who Quint is,” Raymer said.
Dancer shook his head. “He’s still out from my head butt.” He let the man fall the rest of the way to the ground, limp and unmoving.
Ander said, “Let him live. No sense in killing him.”
They started walking past, but Raymer rolled him and felt for a purse. He pulled it and found two small coppers, enough for one mug of good ale or two of swill. He tossed them into the dirt and walked away.
Again Ander had impressed him. For a Dungeon Master to allow a thief to live showed how misplaced Ander was in the job his father had provided. Raymer took up the last in the little procession. He watched the four in front of him and reassessed each of them.
Fleet caught his attention. The boy seldom said anything. He was slow to act and quick to obey. Almost the exact opposite of Raymer. Yet they were nearly the same age.
Raymer called to Quint, “Any idea when we reach your castle?”
“By nightfall tomorrow, and it’s not my castle. It belongs to my father.”
Raymer smiled to himself. Poking fun at Quint was as much fun as anything he’d encountered in a year.
The village they’d seen came back into view. It was large enough for three cross streets, and the buildings in the center appeared to have two stories. Ander said, “I’ll bet they have an inn.”
Quint said, “A
mug of ale and meal will carry us farther and faster than passing it by.”
Dancer scowled at them, but it didn’t hide his smile. The pace picked up, and a few barbs were passed back and forth. They ignored the curious looks of the villagers as they entered the edge of the village.
Raymer noticed expressions of recognition when they spotted Quint. A few whispered to others, but none came forward to speak to him.
Dancer veered to the entrance of a sturdy building with a swinging sign of a blue dog hanging over it. They almost ran inside in their rush to eat. The room was dark, with tiny windows and a low ceiling. Inside were scruffy tables and benches, with a massive stone fireplace containing a smallish fire.
Sitting at the two tables in front of the fire were ten soldiers, all who wore the uniforms of the Northwood Kingdom, and reported to the Earl.
Dancer looked like he didn’t know if he should run, stand his ground, or fight. Raymer longed for the staff he’d left in Myron’s village.
Quint pushed forward and faced the soldiers. They leaped to their feet at attention. His eyes roamed over the ten, and he roared, “Where is your officer?”
One pointed at the row of doors lining the upstairs rail. “He’s working in there, sir.”
Quint headed for the stairs. Half way up he called to Raymer, “Order food and drink.”
Raymer watched him knock loudly on a door. When it opened a crack, Quint shoved it the rest of the way and barged inside. The man inside wore no shirt and an amazed expression. He turned to follow Quint. The door closed behind them.
The four of them sat at a table away from the still standing soldiers. Dancer motioned with his hand for them to sit. He leaned closer to Raymer and asked, “Do you have coin?”
“What? You don’t use them in your village?” He laughed at Dancer’s reaction. Raymer had seen only a few coins in his life until he’d left his home, and still felt confusion when using them. The Dragon Clan shared most of what they owned and had little use for coins.
He pulled the purse he’d taken from Ander as well as others taken from the soldiers who tried to capture them at the apple trees. He smiled as he held a large silver coin, flashing it at the innkeeper who had emerged from the kitchen.
Ander said to the innkeeper, “Five tankards of your best ale. We also want bread, meat, and cheese.”
The innkeeper, a man of undetermined age, eyed the coin in Raymer’s hand and said, “Please sir, do you have any smaller coins? Nobody has used one that large since I built this inn.”
Raymer fished around for a smaller silver or even large copper. He knew they were inside the purse somewhere. His patience wore thin as the smells from the food enticed him. He placed the large silver on the table in front of him and said, “We’re in a hurry, good sir. Satisfy us with food and ale fast enough and this coin is your reward.”
The innkeeper disappeared into the kitchen. Raymer tossed the purse to Ander, who tied it to his belt while ignoring the expressions on the faces of the others eating in the room. One soldier muttered in their direction, “You can have my food for one of those silvers.”
Dancer turned to the men. “Is there a banker who could provide smaller coins that we might use?”
A toothless old man two tables away nodded. “Mr. Sandler owns the store, though he’ll take a fair share for doing you the exchange service. Greedy, he is.”
Dancer held out his hand to Ander and accepted the purse. He selected a small gold coin and two large silvers. He turned back to the old man. “Would you be so kind to do this for me?”
The man stood, approached with dignity, and nodded. He said nothing and asked nothing.
When he left the inn, Ander asked, “Do you think he’ll be back? That’s probably more money than he’s ever seen.”
“No doubt in my mind. He knows that others here can identify him, but that’s not the reason. He’s an honest man. As simple as that,” Dancer said.
Raymer said, “You have a lot of faith in people who are not your countrymen or blood.”
“That I do.” Dancer turned to face a table of men taking turns rolling the dice. They often laughed or teased each other, and their game seemed to involve drinking massive amounts of ale. “If I might interrupt you? Do any of you know how long it will take to travel to Fairwinds Province, Castle Warrington?”
All of them appeared to be related, with long greasy hair and dark brown beards that flowed in all directions. However, a smile splits a beard as one man turned and said, “Three days, if you’re on foot and travel till dark.”
“Three days?” Dancer exploded.
The smile disappeared as the man stood and glanced around. He didn’t appear angry Picking up a round loaf of bread from another table, he walked to Dancer’s side. He set the bread in the middle of the table and reached for an empty mug.
“Bread’s supposed to be Bear Mountain. You’re here,” he pointed. Then he pointed at the mug located on the other side of the table. “Castle Warrington, on the coast of the Endless Sea.”
All eyes were on the layout. Raymer saw the problem immediately. While the distance they had traveled south of the mountain was about the same as King Ember’s invading troops, the troops had far less distance to the castle, which lay to the north. Even traveling faster than the army, if that was possible, would place them at the castle the same day as the invasion at the earliest, and probably a day or two later.
Dancer still looked puzzled. Finally, he reached for another mug and placed it on the table. “Aare? It is located here?”
The man nodded.
Quint had returned, and he shifted his gaze to follow the crude map with them and suddenly smiled. “Amazing how a loaf of bread and a few mugs makes it so clear.”
Dancer smiled.
“I don’t see it,” Raymer said.
Quint pointed. “Aare, the army that almost overran us while we were sleeping and your dragon came? They were not after us. Somehow they must have had word that King Ember is sending his whole army to Northwood, and they’re going to attack him while his entire army is gone.”
Dancer said, “Aare troops will travel south, down past the Raging Mountains and loop around the to the king’s Grand Palace while Ember’s troops attack Castle Warrington. Aare will take the Grand Palace as easily as King Ember expects to take Castle Warrington.”
The innkeeper quickly returned with a tray laden with enough food for ten. Quint pointed for him to place it on the empty table next to them while he continued to study the crude map on the table in front of him. The innkeeper set the food and drink down, and stood aside in case they wanted anything else.
The old man they sent for change returned and silently placed a fistful of coins, some small silver but mostly copper, large and small. Dancer separated one small silver and passed it to the man. When he started to refuse, Dancer shook his head and insisted.
Quint scooped several coins in his hand and raised a finger to gather the attention of the innkeeper. “Good sir, all my friends in here, including the soldiers, will eat and drink without fee for the day.”
The innkeeper glanced at the old man and the three rolling dice, the soldiers, and made a quick calculation. He realized he’d still come out far ahead. “As you wish.”
Raymer said, “What are we going to do about warning your family?”
“A fast horse?” Quint asked, but even as he muttered the words he was already shaking his head. It would never arrive in time. “I still have to try. Innkeeper, who has horses for sale?”
The innkeeper swallowed before speaking as if he didn’t wish to embarrass Quint. “Sir, there are farmers who would sell you horses, suitable for pulling wagons, but the best and fastest horses belong to your army. The officer you spoke to should provide you with them.”
“Right you are! Fleet, will you go tell that officer in the room up there,” he pointed with a thrust of his chin, “that I wish him to appear before me?”
Raymer stood and reached for a bowl of war
m stew, the gravy thick and brown. Carrots, peas, and potatoes floated inside, but he saw no meat if there was supposed to be some. Before eating, he said, “I have something to do, first.”
He ignored the others as he walked outside with his bowl in hand. He slurped a mouthful as he walked. Then another. Behind the inn stood a grove of willows, usually indicating water. He walked in that direction, found a well-worn path and used it to enter the shade where he found a log to sit upon, alone with his mind. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the dragon that had visited last night.
Come to me. He waited and pictured the outside of the inn. Raymer allowed his mind to calm, trying to focus all of his energy on the dragon. Come. He waited for a mental response, but felt nothing but disappointment.
He had hoped that sitting alone without distractions would let him mentally contact the dragon. Maybe Dancer knew more about these things. He stood and started back to the inn.
The others were wolfing down food so fast he feared there might not be anymore, but the innkeeper appeared with another tray. Raymer sat beside Dancer and said softly, “We need to talk.”
“Tell me.” Dancer said between mouthfuls.
“I just became an adult and have not sat on any councils or heard the old stories. I need information about calling down dragons.”
Dancer stopped eating. “I told you that I know very little. When a member of the Dragon Clan is in danger, they can sometimes reach out to a dragon, and it will protect them. There are times when dragons, especially those nesting, call to us for our protection of their chicks against wolves or bears. Sometimes rats or ferrets try getting to the eggs.”
“So it is a mutual helping?”
“For most of us. There are whispered stories of men like you who bond with dragons. They share things in their minds. A bonded member of the clan can direct a dragon to do most anything, it is said.”
Dancer suddenly went still. His eyes widened in understanding.
Raymer said, “Do you think I can do that?”
Dancer had already anticipated Raymer’s idea. “But, how will it carry a warning?”
