Chapter Five
“At least one of us is excited about tomorrow,” Pacian drawled as he watched Valennia practice with her two-handed battle scythe. She whirled and cut at the air against imaginary enemies, none of whom seemed to be providing her with a challenge. Taken from one of the dark priests they had recently fought in the senate, the weapon itself was a nasty looking thing, with a long, curving blade that only vaguely resembled the farming implement it had originated from.
Pacian pondered the evening’s events as he lay sprawled upon the plush double bed of the diplomatic suite. As official representatives of Aielund, they qualified for the finest accommodation, and the spacious, well-appointed room was a pleasant change from the usual inn rooms they had frequented. This was all well and good for the ladies, who would be making full use of the suite during their brief stay, but Pacian was relegated to one of the smaller inn rooms.
The meeting with the chamberlain had not gone well. Sayana had taken the time to detail the dragon’s recent assault on Culdeny. Unfortunately, she knew nothing of diplomacy and if anything, her strident diatribe reinforced their host’s opinions. Nellise struggled to regain control of the conversation and implored the dwarves of Stonegaard to reconsider the impending battle, but the chamberlain would have none of it.
In the end, he would not offer any aid on their quest to locate the sceptre unless they, representing Aielund, joined in the fight. The fine meal and accommodation they were given seemed like the last comforts given to prisoners facing the noose. At least Pacian was able to enjoy it for a while, for he was a man used to living in the moment.
Nellise sat at a nearby table, brushing her silken blond hair after enjoying a long bath. There was a serenity about her that reminded Pacian of the first few days they had journeyed together, before their troubles set in. He found himself gazing at her unconsciously, though the ladies were too wrapped up in their own thoughts to notice. Valennia finally finished her practice session and sheathing the scythe, then mopped her brow with a damp cloth.
“I may require help carrying the beast’s head back here afterwards,” she remarked casually, sitting down on the bed. “Do you think the short ones would allow me to take one of their wagons?”
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself a little,” Pacian advised cynically. “The dwarves will need all their wagons to carry our charred corpses.”
“I don’t think that’s very likely,” Nellise chastised him in mid-brush.
“Isn’t it?” Sayana asked, sitting up from the other side of the bed. “If Azurefang is sitting in the middle of the highway, then we’ll be exposed for miles in either direction. Once we make our presence known, she won’t stop until we’re dead.”
“You underestimate our forces, sister,” Valennia assured her confidently. “A full company of warriors, many armed with crossbows and larger siege weapons. I only hope this dragon doesn’t fall before I have my chance to stand before it and drive my weapon through its skull.”
“I don’t think that’s very likely either,” Nellise sighed.
“Well, you seem to have it all figured out,” Pacian snapped, finding her calm demeanour irritating. “What do you think is going to happen?”
“Do you believe we showed up here, right before they head out to fight this monster, by accident?” she replied, looking Pacian through the mirror.
“Are you saying God sent you here to do something?” Pacian asked, trying to remain respectful but failing to keep the mockery out of his voice.
“I’m saying God sent us here to save them,” Nellise corrected. “I don’t know how or why, but our presence here is important. We will accompany them tomorrow morning when they march and do what we can to help.”
“How will we know when that is?” Sayana asked.
“We’ll know,” Nellise murmured, continuing to calmly brush her hair.
* * *
Pacian was rudely awakened before dawn by a heavy-set dwarven soldier, who stomped through the halls of the inn without a care for its sleeping patrons. Typically a late-riser, Pacian glared at the loud warrior through bleary eyes. If Nellise was right, the dwarven army was about to have a very bad day.
After getting dressed, Pacian met up with the ladies in the common room of the Rockslide Inn. Heavy drapes covered up the large windows to keep in as much heat as possible from the three fires that roared away even at this early hour.
Within the hour, Pacian and the ladies found themselves outside the entrance to the under city as a weak sun began to peek over the horizon. They stood amongst the company of dwarven soldiers that would soon embark upon their quest to slay a dragon — one hundred trained warriors clad in steel and armed to the teeth.
Despite his earlier pessimism, Pacian secretly hoped they would succeed. Not because it would benefit either of the Kingdoms, but because he hated bullies and liked to see them fall, especially big ones who thought themselves undefeatable.
“Can you see the tension on their faces?” Sayana murmured to them as she glanced around. Pacian hadn’t been paying attention to the dwarves’ faces, which were mostly obscured by thick beards and plated helms. In spite of this, he couldn’t sense any sort of fear in their ranks, indeed many of them were boisterously clapping each other on the back, like they’d already won.
“They seem pretty confident to me,” Pacian remarked, taking special note of the number of crossbows, axes, spears and other weapons they were carrying.
“Precisely my point,” Sayana retorted, rubbing her gloved hands together for warmth. “They’re deluding themselves if they think this is going to be easy.”
“They need only keep it busy while I get close enough to chop off its head,” Valennia assured them. Pacian raised an eyebrow at her continuing bravado, but said nothing as the leader of the contingent, an older dwarf resplendent in his heavy armour, began addressing the troops at the front of the column. He was speaking in his native language, but his sweeping, emphatic gestures left no doubt as to his meaning — they were going to win this fight, and drink in glory afterward.
“That’s Captain MacTavish,” Nellise whispered to them. “One of the king’s cousins, and from what I’ve heard, a decent commander.”
“Has he had much dragon slaying experience?” Pacian asked cynically.
“Nobody does,” Nellise reminded him.
“Then it doesn’t really count for much, does it?” On an impulse, Pacian checked the surrounding soldiers once more and noticed they seemed to be quite young, by dwarfish standards. He couldn’t guess as to their experience, yet their eagerness to face the dragon led Pacian to believe they might be a little on the green side.
A number of dwarven women were watching their menfolk prepare to leave, and amongst them he spotted the familiar form of Sloane MacAliese, who stood alongside a venerable dwarf. She seemed to be gesturing specifically at Pacian, but before he could figure out why, the column of dwarves started marching purposefully forward and she was lost in the crowd.
Although heavily clothed in a thick winter cloak, Pacian was keenly aware of the cold as they started to make their way through the mountains. The highway ran from Fairloch to Stonegaard and continued on until it reached Culdeny, far to the west. Somewhere between here and there lurked their target, one of the most dangerous creatures in the known world. One of the dwarven sergeants, marching close to Pacian, took an interest in his choice of weapons.
“Are ya plannin’ t’ pick its teeth with those dainty little things?” he asked in heavily accented Aielish, pointing at Pacian’s daggers. Several nearby dwarves laughed at this comment with their deep, rumbling baritones.
“My plan is to stay as far away from the dragon as I can, and watch the rest of you burn to death,” he replied casually, drawing stern looks from his audience.
“So yer not plannin’ to actually help in t’ fight?”
“I’ll tell you what,” Pacian confided, moving in closer as they marched. “If I see you bleeding to death nea
rby, I’ll drag you to safety, okay?”
“And t’ think, me and mine are riskin’ our backsides for people like you,” the dwarven warrior lamented.
“If it’s any consolation, that tall woman over there is planning to charge right in,” Pacian said, point to where Valennia was strolling along. “So, feel free to follow her in and die horribly, if you like.” The dwarves looked at each other and silently agreed to ignore him for the rest of the day, which was fine by Pacian.
He lapsed into a brooding silence as the column marched along the highway, their altitude steadily increasing over the next few hours. The weather held good as the highway meandered along through the peaks, and it wasn’t until the sun started to set at the end of the day that they made camp at the top of a picturesque valley overlooking a frozen river.
Pacian sighed when he saw a large, clear area of ground where they were setting up tents and campfires for the night, and kept any remarks about the lack of an inn to himself. If he survived the next day, there might be a business opportunity setting up some inns along this desolate yet important highway.
Sayana drew envious looks from nearby dwarves after she set up wood for a fire and set it alight with her sorcery, providing them with a blazing fire in mere moments. As the sun dipped beneath the horizon and the cold wind started to pick up, the faint sound of distant singing could be heard.
“Are you hearing what I’m hearing?” Pacian asked, unsure if his mind was playing tricks on him.
“Yes, you’re not imagining that,” Nellise assured him as she started to prepare their meal. “You’re hearing the chanting ascetics of the Keepers of the Light. Their monastery is in the Valley of Silence, not far from here.”
“Oh, them,” Pacian remarked, recalling mention of the ultra-devout priests recently. “From what I’ve heard, they didn’t really strike me as the type that liked to sing.”
“Every night after their evening meal, they chant the code of their order,” Nellise explained. “It’s in Olde Aielish, so you probably won’t understand it, but it reinforces the strict oaths they have taken in penance for past actions.” Pacian detected an odd note to her voice, and suspected she was considering joining the reclusive priests. He was certain they took oaths of celibacy, which did not fit well into his plans to make Nellise fall in love with him and then bed her, not necessarily in that order.
“You seem to know something about them,” Pacian pointed out. “Is your interest professional or personal?”
“If you’re asking whether I’d consider joining them… I haven’t ruled it out,” she replied hesitantly.
“See, now why would you even consider doing something like that?” Pacian protested. “You’ve done nothing you need to atone for, and you seem to have recovered from your recent trauma quite nicely.”
“That’s presumptuous,” Nellise replied flatly, turning to face him. “I struggle with the memories of that night every waking moment, but I won’t let it stop me living my life.”
“And you’re doing a damn fine job of it,” Pacian offered with a smooth grin. “You’re an inspiration, you know that?”
“If I inspire you to stop being a murderous cad, then I suppose it’s all been worthwhile,” she remarked, and Pacian felt himself physically flinch from her words. Valennia interrupted before he could reply, however.
“What are you two talking about?” she asked, hands on her hips. “You speak of past events I know nothing about. We are comrades now, are we not? Tell me of these things.”
“Perhaps another time,” Nellise answered quietly, focusing on preparing their meal over the blazing fire. Pacian sensed the topic was closed, so he wrapped himself tightly in a winter blanket and set himself up next to the fire for the evening. The chanting continued for another ten minutes or so and then ceased, but during that time, staring up at the clear evening sky filled with stars, Pacian felt a sense of contentment he’d rarely experienced in his life.
* * *
The sense of confidence permeating the small army the previous day had evaporated with the rising of the sun, replaced by a quiet foreboding as the reality of what they were about to attempt settled in. Soldiers doused cooking fires and checked their weapons in preparation for the fight, while Valennia warmed up with a quick practice session.
Pacian knew that as soon as they set out from camp, the possibility of running into the dragon grew with each passing hour. The captain knew this too, judging by the number of scouts he sent ahead. The road ahead was mired in fog, and the stillness of the air was broken only by the clink of metal and the crunch of boots in the snow underfoot.
Nellise held her repeating crossbow at the ready as they crossed over the frozen river, along with fifty dwarven archers with almost identical weapons. Having seen the crossbow at work, Pacian knew just how deadly this force would be if the dragon came into view for more than a few seconds, and he dared to hope that they might actually prevail.
Once past the river, the road ascended along the western side of the valley, until the sounds of the ocean crashing against the northern cliffs could be heard in the distance. Hours had passed without any sign of the monster, yet as they passed by ruined wagons half-covered in snow, the tension continued to build within their ranks.
Just after their noon meal break, Captain MacTavish called for a halt and instructed his engineers to set up the siege engines in the middle of the road. Pacian’s eagle eyes spotted one of the dwarven scouts rushing down the road toward them, waving one hand in a pre-arranged signal. Pacian’s pulse immediately quickened — the dragon had been sighted.
The tension amongst the army gave way to a flurry of action as sergeants organised their squads into loose formations and weapons were readied. Pacian resisted the urge to draw his daggers, as if the situation arose where he had to use them, he was probably already doomed.
Looking around for places to hide, Pacian noticed a towering hill to their left, and a steep drop down to the sea a few dozen yards to their right. It was possible the captain felt this was a good position to fight a dragon, but to Pacian, it looked like the perfect place for an ambush.
“I will join the vanguard,” Valennia declared, twirling her scythe in preparation. “Find a place to make yourselves useful, and we will bring this monster low.” She strode off towards the front of the company and was welcomed by the heavily armoured warriors of the van.
“I do not understand,” Sayana wondered aloud, drawing her axe. “Are we holding position here, or moving forward?”
“Half o’ the force will move forward and get her attention,” a nearby sergeant replied, the same person who saw fit to question Pacian’s weapons when they’d started out from Stonegaard. “When they get ‘er angry, they’ll pull back to this line and we’ll hit ‘er with everythin’ we got.”
“Your captain does understand that dragons can fly, right?” Pacian asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Aye, and when she comes into view, she’s going to get a snout full of hurt,” the dwarf chuckled, fitting a cartridge to his repeater and smacking it into place.
“Time to get ready I suppose,” Pacian muttered, speaking to Nellise. She was the tiny haloed sword of Kylaris with her eyes closed as she whispered her prayers. Glancing to his right, it was obvious Sayana was involved in her own ritual, moving her arms in curious rhythms as layer after layer of glowing power began to suffuse her being.
“Maybe I’ll just go and see what the captain’s found out,” he said to himself, feeling less than useful in the circumstances. Leaving the women to prepare, Pacian crept through the ranks of his allies until he stood next to Captain MacTavish, who was speaking to the returned scout at the head of the column.
“It could’na been anything else,” the unbearded scout was saying in Aielish. “She was laying right in the middle o’ the road, as big as a house. Fog be damned, sir, the silhouette of a dragon is pretty distinctive.”
“And yer certain ya weren’t spotted?” the captain asked shrewdly.
“I think she’s asleep, sir,” the scout informed him. “She was barely movin’, and didn’t react to me presence.”
“She’s in for a bit of a shock when our lads show up, then,” the captain remarked, drawing rumbling laughter from his nearby troops. “All right, this is how it’s gonna go down. First Sergeant MacIntosh, take three squads and get her attention—”
But you already have my attention, captain, a clear, powerful, feminine voice interrupted. Pacian — along with everyone else — whirled around to see who was speaking, but the voice seemed to be coming from nowhere. It has been so lonely for me out here by myself, the smooth voice mocked.
“Who is saying that?” the captain barked with barely disguised trepidation.
I am the spirit of the wind and the earth, and I dance and sing to the black one’s gold, the voice replied enigmatically. A feeling of dread washed over Pacian as a familiar sound could be heard on the wind — the sound of dragon wings beating the air.
“She’s coming,” Pacian cried out, just as a dark, winged silhouette drifted above the hill to their left. Time seemed to slow down as he heard a tremendous intake of breath, followed by a tongue of blue flame exploding into the hillside. Chaos erupted in the ranks of the dwarves as discipline was discarded in favour of the more appropriate reaction, panic.
Despite the sudden display of power, the flames had not come near any of the soldiers as the dragon soared only fifty feet off the ground. Some of the archers had the presence of mind to aim and shoot at the monster, while the engineers struggled to bring their ballistae to bear on the rapidly moving target.
“Shoot at will!” the captain bellowed, attempting to regain control of his force. A dull rumbling sound erupted from the hill, silencing the small army instantly and revealing the dragon’s true plan. An avalanche of ice, snow and rock, set loose by the heat of her flames tumbled down the hillside toward them.
Soldiers of Ruin Page 9
