Chronicles of Den'dra: A Land Torn: Ancient Powers Awaken

by Spencer Johnson

  Mytera was a widow having just lost her husband in infant child to accident and illness. “You fool! What if there was still a dragon up here?”

  “They left the child here. I won’t pretend to know why but it needs cared for.” Mytera ignored Encer’s cautions and picked up the child. He stopped when he saw the look in her eyes that dared him to try and take this infant from her after everything she had lost.

  “If the dragons brought the child here then we should care for it.” Encer didn’t understand the circumstances but he was sure that the dragons had brought the child then departed themselves.

  “If the dragons brought the child here then our lives would be forfeit if we didn’t care for her.” Mytera’s softly spoken words shook Encer to his core. His mind already swirled with questions and fears. Who this child was. Where did the child come from? Why did the dragons have the child? Why hadn’t the dragons killed the child already? What ifs and whys enough to drive a man insane whirled in his head as he completed a circuit of the village. At last content that there were no dragons lurking in the shadows he announced the all clear.

  *****

  Iradaemi circled overhead for hours after she apprehensively left the child in Mytera’s care. Hidden in the clouds she watched and worried. The runes had spoken of a Dragon Lord’s return. If this girl was a Dragon lord then it meant that the man spoken of had to be appearing soon. After pondering the things that the child might portend Iradaemi veered off and began patrolling the new border.

  Her first stop was the trail that led into the valley. She had blackened every inch of the path and torn up sections of it before she was done. It looked like a couple dragons had held an epic battle on the ground. Iradaemi hoped that it would deter any humans that tempted to travel the path. The plan called for the village being completely isolated from the Braebach Empire. No word of the human child that dragons protected must reach outside the village.

  Night fell before the patrol was done. Iradaemi met up with Setur, one of the dragons that had flown to the village with the child. While Mytera fed the child and Encer worried, Iradaemi and Setur discussed plans for the village.

  *****

  “Mytera, what are you going to name the child?” Encer stopped in at Mytera’s cottage on the outskirts of the village.

  “Inadar. In the old language it means dragon gift.”

  “Technically it means gift dragon but I think it is appropriate.” Encer pulled back one of the skins that covered the baby. She was sound asleep. Fingering the skin he examined it closer. It was well cured and soft. The fur looked like some sort of mountain sheep but it wasn’t course like the live animal. It was soft and pure white. There were specimens of hides representing almost every species of animal that inhabited the mountains. There were rich white mountain goat or sheep skins. Dark deer and elk hides. Soft gray rabbit fur. Despite the skill shown by the curing Encer wondered. It was clear that these skins had never met a knife. The edges were torn into shape and in spots could be seen evenly spaced puncture marks or slashes that might have been the original wearer’s mortal blow.

  It wasn’t uncommon for a hunter to find a slain animal in the woods. After chasing away the predators the hunter would count himself fortunate and collect the bounty. Thus it was on occasion that one would see a fine deer skin with a series of cougar claw marks or a torn edge from a wolf kill. Encer thrust a couple fingers through two of the holes on this skin. They were well a hand span and a half apart. Larger than any wolf bite he had ever dreamed of. The only reasonable explanation that he was able to come up with was that all these skins were from dragon kills. Encer could see that but he couldn’t imagine how they came to be before him. Some brave hunter must have gathered the skins of dragon kills. Encer only wondered what price the individual had paid when the dragons had acquired the furs.

  Shuddering Encer dropped the skin and tucked Inadar warmly back under it. A look at Mytera showed Encer that she was busy altering her son’s clothing to fit Inadar. She acknowledged him and returned to her work without another word. He gave the sleeping infant one last look before leaving.

  Encer had no way of knowing for sure what the circumstances of the child’s arrival were but he was sure that the dragons were involved and couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow the villager’s lives depended on the child’s wellbeing. The five dragons in the sky, the claw prints in the hard packed earth around the child to the skins the child was wrapped in. He had little doubt that the dragons were involved somehow. But how and why? Encer had a feeling that he was going to be getting little sleep tonight as the questions persecuted him.

  Chapter Four

  The gentle sound of the creek and Urake sleeping slowing convinced Skeln that what he had experienced was a dream. The thing he couldn’t shake was how real the dream had felt. The shoulder that had been pierced by the crossbow bolt ached at the memory. It didn’t have that vaguely unreal quality that accompany most dreams. This one was different.

  Finding himself unable to sleep Skeln rolled out of bed and dressed himself. The sky had begun to hint of a sunrise in the near future. Still the dream lingered in Skeln’s mind. He was oddly unnerved as if expecting the chainmail clad men to leap out at any moment from hiding. Any attempts to reassure himself that the men in chainmail didn’t exist only left him with a sense of foreboding. The sunrise had begun creeping up the valley floor when Skeln decided that he needed fresh air to clear his head. Grabbing the blanket from his bed he wrapped it around himself and began climbing the hill behind the house. After a while he turned at a right angle and began traversing the hillside. In this manner he avoided the village.

  From his vantage he was able to see the waking village below. The valley widened out and flattened allowing for fields to be planted west of the village. The Redzyn and the Rothac manors could be seen presiding over their lands. These two families held the vast majority of the land around the village. They had held the land for as long as anyone could remember. The rumor was that both houses were heirless and that the lands would go to the crown on their deaths. The King seemed to hold most of the land in the Braebach these days. For the people that lived and worked the land it didn’t matter much who held the land. Some preferred it one way or the other. It really depended on what land master was sent by the king to oversee the working of the land.

  The neighboring village was held by a rather lazy man who didn’t much care for the day to day dealings. As long as the fields were planted, tended and harvested in that order he could have cared less. Not every holding was so fortunate. A traveling merchant had carried a tale of caution about a village where the land master routinely raided any passing caravans. He nearly starved the surfs that lived on his lands by taxing them to within a copper of starvation.

  Typically Redzyn and Rothac families had upheld a longstanding tradition of ill will towards each other. A generation had passed since their houses had engaged in open warfare. As recent as a couple decades ago it was not uncommon for the youth in each house to engage in brisk fistfights. The families had decided that it was time to bury the hatchet after most of their men had been called to the wars never to return. The banquet that was held ten years ago had ended tragically with most of the participants having been poisoned. Only the older members of the families had escaped with their lives.

  The story was that old Redzyn and Rothac still held enough hatred for each other that they had no appetite. Neither was willing to sample the other’s wine and so they carried their own bottle. This is credited with having spared them. Sadly both their heirs died that night. This tragedy had mended the old grievances in a way that no one understood. Perhaps the pain of the new wounds was enough to drown the old scars. In any matter they were occasionally heard to speak to each other and some went so far as to say they seemed like friends. Even fewer understood this turn of events. Skeln had heard that they had united in their grief instead of killing each other. The reason given that they knew the true poisoners and didn’t
dare speak the name for fear of their lives. The common story was that one of the heirs had poisoned the wine or food but had mistaken what was deadly and so none were spared but the patriarchs. No matter the story, one theme held constant. The crown would hold their property on their deaths.

  The sun had climbed high enough that Skeln no longer had need of the blanket for warmth. The strengthening spring sun was delightfully warm on his cheek. Glad that these matters of politics didn’t concern him he forgot about his own problems and rested against a pine trunk. His only problem was the pit in his stomach. He shrugged it off as an annoyance and drifted into sleep.

  A pine cone landing beside Skeln jolted him awake. The sun had climbed overhead and the pit in his stomach was now a yawning chasm demanding instant fulfilment. He wondered how long he had slept. Standing up and stretching yielded a couple satisfying pops in his neck and back. He had nothing but time so it didn’t matter that he had slept longer than he had originally intended.

  Walking along the hillside back to the house he saw a sight that chilled his blood more than a storm from the very peak of the Garoche Mountains could have. Down below him was a black carriage drawn by a team of horses.

  *****

  Urake had just stoked the fire under his still and adjusted a couple of the fixtures. He sniffed a sample that he drew and frowned. It had a strong odor reminiscent of a few of the herbs he had flavored it with. Namely the mountain peppermint that came through strong enough to make his eyes water. To strong. He tossed the sample in the fire and watched as it flashed into flames. Already hard enough. Much harder and it would be unfit for even the slobs that frequented Darsay’s establishment. Filling a small ceramic jug with the mixture set off for home. He hoped that cooling it would improve the flavor. Not that he had much hope but it was worth a try.

  His mind was occupied with the problem his experiment had created. It had had a bitter flavor that he was trying to hide but now the cure was worse than the problem. He knew ways of counteracting the peppermint but each presented their own problems. Some of the ingredients were not in season and some of the others were only available in a larger city. The ones that were readily available had strong flavors of their own. If he was willing to abandon the clean sharp flavor that he was attempting to achieve and leaned instead towards a rich full flavor then he might be able to make it work.

  Suddenly the flavor if his alcohol was the last thing on Urake’s mind when he rounded the corner to his house. Standing in front of him was a soldier in full harness. The most disturbing thing beside his unwelcome presence was the crossbow that was trained on his chest.

  “That’s the father. Touched in the head and a drunk to boot. Does everything the boy tells him to do.” Urake looked over at the peddler, accompanied by two more soldiers, that he and Skeln had purchased seeds from the previous day. The jug in his hand and his tattered disheveled appearance made feigning stupidity easy enough. They lowered the crossbow and conferred among themselves for a moment almost ignoring Urake accept for an occasional glance. From the men’s careless handling of him, Urake was able to deduce that they had no idea who he really was but that still left the question of what they did want.

  “Where is the boy called Skeln?” The soldier holding the crossbow addressed Urake.

  “He isn’t here. Can you try this? I made it myself. Good stuff.” Urake appraised the men and wondered what they could possibly want Skeln for. In keeping with his charade he offered the jug to the soldier nearest himself.

  “Keep that swill away from me. I asked you a question. Where is Skeln?” The soldier grabbed Urake’s shirt with one hand and shook him.

  “Up in the hill. He goes up there frequently.” Urake feigned terror and huddled in a heap when the soldier dropped him and stepped back. The man rubbed his hand on his cloak in an attempt to wipe of the grime he had soiled himself with. The look of disgust he gave Urake was enough to curdle any man’s blood.

  “We could spend days searching the mountains and still not find him. Go fetch a tracker from the village. Reigns wants us back as soon as possible. And make sure the carriage is up here by the time we get back.” The soldier holding the crossbow seemed to be in charge and one of the men began moving back down the trail towards the village.

  “I’m a tracker, I can find Skeln. He is a bad boy. He always wants me to do something. Work work work. It’s all he talks about.” Urake wasn’t about to be left out of events. The captain appeared undecided for a moment.

  “I know all his hiding places and how to find all the plants on the hill. I know what plants taste best in here.” Urake rubbed the ceramic jug. He couldn’t risk any more variables than there already were. He was clearly a harmless idiot in their eyes. They weren’t watching their conversation around him like they were around the peddler they had brought along. Urake noted that the soldier sent to fetch a tracker was waiting uncertainly for a decision from the captain.

  “We can try the drunk and see if he knows all he says he does. Forget the tracker but take the merchant with you. We no longer have need of him.” The captain turned on Urake and was about to order the search begun when the aforementioned merchant interrupted the proceedings.

  “But you said that you were going to give me gold when you found the boy. I want payment.” The peddler was resisting the soldier’s attempts to drag him down the trail.

  “We didn’t find the boy so you don’t get paid.”

  “You wouldn’t have known where to find the house if it weren’t for me!” The enraged peddler was fuming at having been cheated.

  “Your assistance to the crown is appreciated. Fortunately for you, so appreciated that I intend to let you keep your life. Another word from you and I will be forced to reevaluate my appreciation.” The captain swept back his cloak and revealed the hilt of a sword. The peddler went from a shade of beet red to something more akin to a dirty wool gray. Urake suppressed an urge to act on any irrational urges.

  “Find the boy.” The captain addressed Urake who cowered appropriately.

  “He goes up into the hills and sleeps in the sun. Worthless boy.” Urake lied but would have been surprised at how truthful he was.

  “I don’t care if he goes and sleeps or hunts, just find him!” Urake detected that he ought to behave now as the merchant had used up the last bit of patience that the captain possessed.

  “I saw him go this way this morning.” Urake shambled along ahead of the captain who called over the remaining soldier at the house. Still carrying the jug of ruined alcohol he followed Skeln’s trail. He knew that if he didn’t at least find something the captain wouldn’t hesitate to rid himself of Urake’s life and find another tracker. Hoping that Skeln had taken a long walk and wasn’t coming back to the house he set out.

  The trail was evident beyond the stream. The tall grass had been wiped clean of the dew and pressed flat where Skeln had stepped. This trail only lasted until Skeln had reached the taller trees. Now he had to track by finding the footprints left here and there between the pine needles. The going was slow but fast enough that the captain wasn’t suspicious. Up higher, footprints could be seen on the rocks where the dew and dust had been pressed together. In a little while after the tracks had traversed the hillside over the village he found a tree and an indentation by the trunk where someone had been resting. Feeling the ground Urake was relieved when he found it cold.

  “Was he here?”

  “He was. He was sleeping here. Worthless boy.” Urake scanned the surroundings and found another set of tracks leading higher up the hill.

  “How long ago?”

  “Only a few minutes at the most. Just missed him by the feel of it.” Urake tipped his head towards the indentation before him. The captain was already breathing hard from the climb and wasn’t about to touch something the drunk had. Urake felt safe in his deception.

  “Let’s get a move on then. When you see him call him over to us.” The captain scowled as Urake got up and began following the new t
rail. The soldier looked like he wanted a few more minutes of rest but he followed none the less.

  The trail led higher up the hillside and into a thick stand of trees. There was a boulder outcropping where Skeln had stopped for a while but the trail was still not that fresh. Urake paused to admire the view and noticed that one could see most of the valley including the road up to home from here. Not wanting to give the captain any idea that Skeln had probably seen them he moved on.

  Surprisingly the tracks became much harder to follow. Not quite like they were hidden. Only like someone was mindful that they were leaving tracks and instinctively took less traceable footing. Urake surmised that the soldiers had indeed been seen and that Skeln somehow knew that he was their target. Why then the tracks continued back to the house was a mystery. Urake didn’t have to pretend now in order to slow the search.

  Urake had managed to track Skeln halfway back to the house when he found another spot where Skeln had stopped. This time behind a thicket of alder. He was mildly surprised to see that from this vantage one could see the path that he and the soldiers had taken earlier. Still the tracks continued towards the house. Now the tracks were far more difficult to follow.

  The captain grew impatient and on noticing their direction of travel guessed at Skeln’s destination. Urake didn’t dare argue and soon they were cutting back to the house. Urake guessed that with the lead that Skeln had then they were probably an hour or two behind him.

  Arriving at the house Urake noted with despair the black carriage that stood with its team of horses by the house. Two soldiers were standing around the carriage and snapped to attention on the captain’s approach.

  “Did you get him?”

  “No. We haven’t seen him. I thought you were tracking him.” Urake refrained from sighing in relief at the soldiers words.

  “His trail was coming back here. We might have beat him back so pull the carriage over there behind that stand of trees and wait for him. I will be inside with Vorat and the father. We might be able to surprise him on his return.” The captain turned and walked through the door into the house. Vorat grabbed Urake’s arm when he didn’t readily move and dragged him inside. Urake waited for the sounds of the carriage to die away by the door.