by H. M. Clarke
Banar’s question took Dagan by surprise. He turned shrewd eyes on the man and again thought that there was a lot more to him than first appeared. Dagan carefully swallowed his mouthful of scone. “That depends.”
Banar stopped his lounging and leaned forward with elbows on the table. To Dagan, he looked as though he thought he was going to get the keys to his future. “On what?” Banar asked.
“On how much you annoy Bron.”
“Bron? I thought Vannik was the one that ‘ran’ that side of the Business.”
“He does. But there is no getting to Vannik without going first through Bron.”
Banar smiled and gave a small chuckle. “Nice to see that you answered me straight. If I were Ryn, then I’m sure it would have been a different situation entirely.”
Dagan hid the annoyance he felt. Banar had been testing him, but all he said in reply was, “Why do you think that?”
“I think you like it when she asks questions, because you like the sound of her voice and that her attention is focused on you. If you don’t answer them, you keep her attention longer.” Banar’s smile grew broader, and he leaned back in his chair and resumed his lounging, this time with a foot resting on the chair next to him.
“Maybe I should have picked Ashe to masquerade as my Warrior Pair,” Dagan muttered, though he smirked as he did.
“You chose Ashe to go with Ryn because he is a Jdari and even though he is soft on Ryn, the man would fight to the last breath to make sure she is safe.”
The smirk disappeared from Dagan’s mouth. Banar had hit his reasoning right on the head. Nothing seemed to miss his notice. “I think you are wasted as a third son to Earl Welton.”
“Definitely, considering both of my brothers have no brains. I want to be more than just the Spare’s spare.”
“You chose to go into the Blackwatch?” Dagan asked.
Banar nodded. “Father wanted me in the army, but I convinced him to have me join the Blackwatch. I thought I could serve my country better with them.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that the current King Regent was a former Blackwatch Commander.” Dagan dropped what was left of his scone back to the plate and dusted his fingers off.
A twinkle appeared in Banar’s eyes. “No, it doesn’t.”
“What would you do if the heir to the throne suddenly turned up? Would that scupper your plans any?”
Banar let out a bark of laughter, and a few eyes turned to him to see what he found so funny. “The Dragoncaesters have been gone ever since the… incident… the bloodline was placed into hiding. No one knows where they are. For all we know, the last of that house died out a long time ago. I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”
“We know the line still exists. The Dragonthrone still stands,” Dagan replied.
“You’ve seen it?”
“I have,” Dagan nodded.
“What is it like?” The awe in Banar’s voice was not lost on Dagan. Whoever the heirs are, they would have a loyal follower in Banar.
“It’s not much to speak of. Just a black granite seat with dragons carved as a relief in its back and sides.”
“But could you feel it? It’s said that the thing oozes power.”
“It doesn’t ‘ooze’, but it does have an aura. You know the legend, Banar. It is spiritually linked to all members of the royal bloodline. As soon as the last link is broken, then the throne will shatter and Myrcea will descend into a morass of depravity, despair and dinkleberries.”
“Dinkleberries?”
“I hate dinkleberries, yet people still insist on slipping them into stews and pies.” Dagan screwed his face in distaste. He turned back to look through the window and saw two large familiar figures crossing the road towards their establishment.
“And here comes Bron and Vannik. You’d better get your feet of that chair.”
Banar quickly stopped his lounging and placed both feet squarely on the floor.
The brothers came through the door and made a beeline straight to their table and sat in the spare chairs on either side of the table. Vannik next to Dagan and Bron next to Banar.
The two men now wore richer attire than what they arrived in. Muddy and worn traveling clothes had been exchanged for light cottons, silks and brocade. Even Vannik’s wild, long gray hair had been pulled back into a neat single braid that ran down his back to end in a bright red ribbon.
“Morning Bron, Vannik,” Banar said as Bron pulled out the vacant chair next to him. The large man’s ice-blue eyes stared at the seat before slowly pulling a kerchief from his trouser pocket and used it to brush off the small smattering of dirt that was there.
“This place used to have better standards than this,” he muttered as he sat. Running a hand over the intricate braids of his glossy golden beard, he stared hard at Dagan.
“Good morning, Magister, Blackwatch,” Vannik said as he gave the two men a nod. “I sent the word out last night,” he continued without preamble. “Everything has been put into motion, we now have to wait to see what gets reeled in.”
“It would have been a better morning if we didn’t have to sort out the mess left for us at the house by our majordomo,” Bron said eyeing the remains of Dagan’s scone. “I haven’t ate yet.” Raising a hand, Bron signaled the server to come over and Bron and Vannik quickly gave her their food order. “I’m going to put it on your tab,” he said to Dagan. “You can chalk it up as expenses when you submit your receipts to the tribunal for reimbursement.”
Dagan tried not to chuckle. The Tribunal was not known for their generosity. Getting any expenses paid back was like drawing blood from a stone. “I’ll add it to the laundry invoice you gave me.”
Bron nodded but said nothing as the server placed a large jug of apple cider on the table along with two cups. Both brothers took a cup and poured themselves a drink.
“I’m sorry you are having trouble with the help,” Banar said.
“We’ve no trouble with the help, Blackwatch. Bron just doesn’t like paperwork, and since we’ve been away a lot of paperwork has built up. His arm’s just worn out from signing all the payment slips.”
“And I hate the smell of ink,” Bron said as he took a pull from his cider cup. “Now, we’ve given you our news, what do you have for us?” he asked as he thuncked his cup onto the tabletop.
“Vannik has been registered as being in Kaldor under my supervision, and the terms of your sentences will be commuted to time served once this mission is complete,” Dagan replied.
“Excellent! Hear that Vannik? We’re free men once this is over with.”
“I have one more favor to ask of you both.” Dagan leaned both elbows on the table as he looked first at Bron, then Vannik.
“Another one?”
Dagan’s eyes slipped back to Bron. “Yes. Nothing big, mind you. Just the use of your house if we need to have private meetings to discuss things.” Dagan left the ‘without being overheard by unknown ears’ unsaid.
“Yes, of course you can,” Vannik answered instantly and was rewarded by a scowl from Bron. The big man smiled back at his brother, and then he quirked an eyebrow as if just noticing. “Donal and Lily are not here, what have you got them toiling at?”
“I have asked them to practice their dueling and have sent them to the Tribunal academy to watch and learn. The Commandant owes me a few favors.”
“You’ve set them to spy?”
“That is such a harsh word, I’d say observe.”
“Huruphm,” was all the reply Dagan got.
Something tingled at the back of Dagan’s mind. He tried to push it away, thinking it was Ryn trying to snoop, but it nudged back very insistently. Before he could take a breath, pain exploded in his arm. He cried out and clutched at it, pulling it close to his chest when the same pain flared again, but this time against his ribs.
“Dagan!” he heard someone say, though the voice sounded muffled. He looked down at his arm but could see nothing wrong. But his mind was telling him otherwise. He drew
breath through gritted teeth and heard its painful whistle. It was all in his mind, the pain was not really happening, at least not to him. “It’s Kathryn,” he choked as he exerted his will to shut down the Link between them. “She’s in trouble.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Do you really think that your new found Jdari powers can protect us both from a fireball?” Ryn asked as she maneuvered her blue roan around a tree while following the tail of Ashe’s Chestnut.
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before,” he responded. Ashe had been keeping himself to himself all morning since they set off to patrol from their new camp at the farmhouse Dagan had told them about, and the silence was starting to grate on Ryn’s nerves. Sure, the sounds of the wind blowing through the leaves, the chirping of birds and the occasional chatter of woodland squirrels, were nice and all, but Ryn wanted conversation to keep her mind active.
“Maybe I’ll use you as a human shield when we next get into a fight.” Ryn grinned to take any ill meaning out of her words. “Then we’ll see.”
Ashe did not even turn to look back at her. He just shrugged and nodded.
“You’re not even listening to me are you, Ashe?”
“Huh, what?” Ashe shook his head and finally looked back at her.
“I said that you’re not paying attention to anything I’ve just said.”
“Ah, right. No, I suppose I wasn’t.”
Ashe suddenly jerked on his reins and the chestnut came to a stop and immediately the animal bent its head to nibble at some long tail moss growing on a nearby tree. Ryn pulled her roan up next to him.
“Can I ask you something?” Ashe blurted out.
“Please do, at least then that will be a conversation and not the one-sided affair I’ve been having all morning.”
“Yes, well.” Ryn watched as Ashe’s face quickly flushed red all the way up from his cheeks to his golden hairline.
“What do you think of Dagan?” he finally said.
“What do you mean? He’s my Pair. He can be a know it all, pain in the arse at times, but-”
“That’s not what I meant,” Ashe rushed to cut her off while holding a hand up to stop her.
“What then?” Ryn felt her brow furrowing. She had been hoping the conversation might turn to complaining about Banar being an ass, or how Donal makes that annoying whistling sound through his teeth when he’s concentrating hard on something.
She watched as Ashe’s cheeks puffed out before releasing the air slowly through parted lips. He is nervous, she thought. This does not bode well. What have I done now? He opened his mouth to speak.
CRACK!
Both heads swung around as if on a swivel to the direction the noise came from. It was the sound of breaking wood. Something large was moving through the undergrowth. Trees and thick scrub screened the maker of the noise from them. The sound seemed close, but in the woods, sound travels differently. The noise may have come from some distance away. Either way, whoever made that noise was heavy, Ryn surmised.
Ryn jerked her head towards the screen of trees and Ashe nodded silently back to her. Ashe quickly ran through some motions with his hands. Ryn nodded acknowledgement. He had signaled they do a pincer movement to flank whoever was there and then surprise them.
Both unhitched their shields and hefted them on their rein hand. With the other hand, they each drew their swords. Then, without a word, they guided their horses away from each other off the trail. Ashe headed left, she headed right.
Her horse slipped into the trees and Ryn guided the mare slowly through the underbrush, keeping an eye and an ear open for anything untoward sneaking around the woods. Her mind snidely told her that the only thing untoward here was her. She pushed the thought aside and focused on the reassuring presence of her Pair link with Dagan. It was faint, but she could feel his amusement over the link. At least he was having fun.
Ryn saw no sign of Ashe moving to her left, but there was a lot of undergrowth between her and where he should be. She was amazed at how quiet he and his chestnut could be compared to her. Her ears heard only the creak of her harness, the snort of her roan as the mare chomped on the bit, the dull thud of hooves as they stepped through the mildewing leaf litter. She scanned the woods ahead, looking for any sign of anything big and bulky, but she could detect nothing untoward.
Maybe the noise was nothing to worry about?
Maybe it was just a branch cracking and falling from a dying tree?
Ryn was about to call across to Ashe when…
BANG!
What could only be the sound of a wooden door slamming against a stone jamb echoed throughout the forest. A door? Out here?
Slamming her sword back home in its scabbard, Ryn grabbed the reins with both hands and urged her horse forward. A caw from above gave her warning as a large, black shape zoomed past her and Ryn automatically guided the roan to follow. Peck has seen something ahead of them. Movement on her left caught her attention, and she tilted her head in that direction and saw Ashe and his chestnut appear from the trees and come alongside her.
“Did you hear the bang?” he called to her.
“Yeah, Peck’s seen something too.” She called back to him.
They pushed their horses through the trees, when suddenly they cleared and they found themselves in the overgrown courtyard of an abandoned inn. Ryn and Ashe pulled their horses to a halt and looked about them. The courtyard held a tumbled down well, and a weather worn sign that might once have stated the name of this place. The inn was in a state of advanced decay and beside it, the barn looked in no better shape. One of its doors was hanging lopsided from a single hinge with the other hanging wide open. Wind stirred through the courtyard and the open door slammed back hard against the frame.
BANG!
“That might explain the loud banging noise,” Ashe’s voice startled Ryn from watching the slowly swinging barn door.
“What is this place?” she asked as Peck came to land on one of the old uprights that once would have held up a wide verandah.
“It’s probably one of the traveler’s inns that were abandoned when the King’s road was moved over a century ago,” Ashe said as he looked uneasily around them. “The place is not giving me a good feeling.”
“Something must be here otherwise Peck wouldn’t have hare tailed here as quick as he did,” Ryn said as she dismounted from her roan and tried the mare’s reins to the upright that Peck was perched on.
“Let’s take a look around then,” Ashe grumbled as he dismounted and secured his chestnut next to her horse. “That’s what we were sent out here to do.”
“You check the barn; I’ll take a look in the Inn.”
Ashe nodded and moved slowly toward the barn.
Ryn walked over to the heavy oak door of the Inn and found that it was in pretty good shape for being neglected for so long. She opened it and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark inside before she stepped in.
The narrow-vaulted room smelled musty and mildewed. The air was dusty and hard to breathe. Light streamed in from gaps in the dilapidated shutters on the windows and broken glass glinted as it lay scattered across the floor. A large fireplace stood blackened and crumbling at the far end of the room, and what looked to be a solid oak counter guarded the only other exits from this room. This must have been the old tap room. There should be a way to get to the lodging rooms from near the counter. Ryn went to one of the doors behind the bar. Made of oak and bound in iron, this door stood half open, and she put her hand on it to push it wider. Sleek pale splinters of wood stood out sharply against the aged oak. Part of the door round the latch had been recently broken off. Someone had forced their way in here. She stepped back, warned, and shifted to one side to see through into the corridor beyond.
In the dim light she could see only a little way past the door, but the thick dust on the floor was covered in footprints.
“Ashe!”
She kicked the door open and went through it, drawing her dagger; the c
onfines of the hallway held no room for sword work. The corridor stretched away empty into the dark shadows. She went cautiously down the corridor, glancing into the open doors on either side as she passed. She assumed that these were the sleepers, though with the windows of each room shuttered and boarded, it was hard to tell. In this darkness Ryn could see nothing.
Something whispered in the dust behind her, and she whirled, so that the weapon smashed down across her raised arm instead of her head. The blow knocked her sprawling down the corridor. She rolled. The wash of pain in her arm froze her breath in her lungs and blinded her, and she flung herself to one side, unable to see what was attacking her. The blow to her arm was crushing; some type of mace or club.
