Yorien's Hand (The Minstrel's Song Book 3)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  “Oraeyn, I’m sure every High King in history felt the same way. Heroes don’t realize they’re heroes when they’re in the midst of things. Don’t worry, everything will turn out fine, I’m sure of it.”

  Oraeyn was not so sure, but he knew that he wasn’t going to solve all the riddles that plagued him this night. He sighed and lowered his head onto his hands just as more salty water sloshed over Yole’s wing and bathed his face. He spluttered and coughed and heard muted giggles coming from Kamarie. He sighed, it was going to be a long, cold, wet night.

  It was the most uncomfortable night Oraeyn had ever experienced. Water lapped over Yole’s wing intermittently, and before long, Oraeyn was completely soaked. Long before morning, a wind picked up, causing Oraeyn to shiver uncontrollably. The cold and the wet and the fear of rolling off the edge of the dragon’s wing and sinking into the ocean’s depths made sleep impossible. When morning dawned once more the travelers were only a mile from their destination, and Oraeyn had never been more glad to see the Dragon’s Eye. The only blessing to be found was that a lack of sleep meant no nightmares.

  As the new day dawned, Emnolae rose up, filling Oraeyn’s vision. The beach glistened white in the morning light, reminding him of Pearl Cove. A wild and tangled jungle-forest rose up in the distance, its emerald depths both inviting and forbidding. Beyond the forest the peaks of mountains stretched up into the sky: dormant volcanoes, Oraeyn remembered from Brant’s brief story about his first trip to this island. One peak, in particular, dwarfed the others, towering above them. That volcano, in the center of the island, was the very heart of Emnolae. It was there they must go.

  Thorayenak’s head came up, just enough so he could ask Brant which point they should aim for on the island. Brant indicated a small cove and the dragon’s head disappeared beneath the waves again.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Dylanna and Leila camped for the night on the trail and woke early to continue riding towards the Caethyr Gap. They rode well into the afternoon before they reached their destination. The aethalons’ camp was not far from where they emerged from the Iron Wood, and Dylanna sighed to herself, relieved that they would not have to search.

  Scouts rode out to stop them. There were three of them, all dressed in the familiar armor of the aethalons. It was still strange to think that these men were now friends and allies when not so very long ago they had been enemies. There was no time to ponder the odd twists of fate, however, for the scouts had reached them and brought Leila and Dylanna’s progress to an abrupt halt.

  The scouts were all tall and their faces were hard and stern; they were men who had seen battle and killed to survive, men who saw death as a necessary evil, a side effect of their orders. They approached warily, but there was a lightness about their expressions as well, like people who had lived under stormy skies that had recently cleared. They asked for Dylanna and Leila to identify themselves, their voices guarded.

  “My name is Dylanna, and this is my sister Leila,” Dylanna informed the scouts. “We come from Aom-igh. We bear a message for King Jemson. Can you take us to him? Our message is urgent.”

  “We will need something more convincing than your word on who you are if we are to let you see our king,” one of the warriors said bluntly.

  Dylanna sized the man up. He was obviously the head scout and had the look of a man who took his job seriously. The expression on his face said he would not budge one inch on the matter. Dylanna respected his dedication to duty, but wished it did not complicate her errand.

  “What proof can I give that you will believe?” she asked. “I am from Aom-igh, so I know none of your passwords, and any names I might give you I could have picked up from overhearing idle gossip.”

  The scout’s face took on a look of respect and thoughtfulness. “Well now, I don’t know about that, but you’ll have to come up with proof that you mean no harm before I can let you come any closer to the camp or King Jemson.”

  At that moment Leila urged her horse forward. The scouts had been focusing their attention on Dylanna and had barely noticed the second wizardess. They noticed her now though. Leila saw the astonished looks of recognition on the faces of the men as they saw what horse she rode.

  “Sir,” she said boldly to the scout leader, “Hawkspin is all the proof you should require to know that we are friends. I can see from your expression that you know him. Your king’s horse-master, Rhian himself, gave me leave to ride this horse on our urgent errand to bring the king a message of utmost importance.”

  “That horse is one I would know anywhere, he is the king’s pride and joy. But it’s not possible that you should be riding him,” the scout sputtered.

  “Why not?”

  “No man can ride Hawkspin. He’s as wild and vicious as they come.”

  “Is there any way you can be sure this horse is indeed the Hawkspin of which you speak?” Leila pressed.

  “Of course there is. Hawkspin is legendary. If it’s him, there’ll be a scar beneath his left front leg. The story goes he got it when he tried to jump the fence of his paddock as a colt.”

  One of the other scouts looked skeptical. “How could you possibly know that?” he scoffed.

  “You haven’t heard the story?” the first man’s voice was surprised. “The fence was eight feet tall! Hawkspin nearly made it, too.”

  His comrades shook their heads.

  “Huh,” the first scout shrugged. “I thought everyone knew that tale. It was all anybody was talking about for months.”

  “Take a look then,” Leila challenged.

  “Lady, you could easily have stolen this beast,” the scout argued. “How is knowing the identity of the horse you ride going to convince me that you are friends?”

  “If this is the horse you believe it is, then you can know we are who we say we are,” Leila said, authority filling her voice. “Who but friends could have taken this particular horse? Would enemies have chosen to steal the wildest horse in the royal stables in order to come and kill the king?”

  “You have a point there, Lady.”

  The man swung down from his own horse and advanced upon Hawkspin with wary apprehension. The great chestnut stallion pranced in place nervously at the soldier’s approach, but Leila soothed him and he quieted. The scout checked beneath the horse’s left foreleg and then nodded at his companions.

  “It’s him all right, but how you are riding him is a mystery to me. And without a bit or a saddle either!”

  Leila raised her chin triumphantly, but said nothing. The scout looked up at her again, trust and respect evident in his expression. He patted Hawkspin idly for a moment.

  Dylanna cleared her throat in satisfaction and impatience. “If you are thoroughly convinced that we mean your king no harm, would you please escort us to speak with His Majesty? Our message is urgent and time is not our friend.”

  The scout bobbed his head in a swift apology. “Follow me.”

  Leaving two of the scouts behind to continue their rounds, the rest of them rode into the camp. The aethalons stared at the wizardesses as they rode past. A few of them recognized the legendary colt and they pointed him out to each other with mutters of astonishment.

  From his campsite King Jemson heard the commotion. He looked up to see what was causing the disturbance and caught sight of the odd procession approaching. After Shentallyia, he had thought nothing would ever surprise him again. He had been wrong.

  “Sire, friends from Aom-igh, bearing a message. They say it is urgent,” the scout announced as they came closer.

  “Dylanna! Leila!” Jemson called out, catching sight of his two visitors. “This is a welcome surprise! What brings you here? And riding my most unruly mount, I see. What should I expect from a pair of wizardesses? You look tired; come, sit, let me find you something to eat or drink. Pieter will take your horses. Leila, whatever you did to Hawkspin, make sure he doesn’t take Pieter’s arm off once you dismount, will you? It is good to see you
. What’s so urgent that you came all the way out here?”

  Jemson paused, pulling his shoulders back. A look of maturity passed across his face and he took a deep breath. Dylanna was amazed at how much older he looked. Jemson had grown quite a bit since the war in Aom-igh that had claimed his father’s life and given him the throne. Brant believed in the young man, and at this moment Dylanna could see why.

  “Pieter,” Jemson said, getting his curiosity under control, “please make sure these horses are cared for.”

  The two wizardesses dismounted and Pieter took hold of Spun Gold’s reins. He looked questioningly at Leila and the woman whispered in soothing tones to Hawkspin. Then she turned and addressed the scout.

  “He will follow you, as long as you make no attempt to put a halter or a rope on him.”

  Hawkspin tossed his head and snorted and Leila chuckled. “Do not worry,” she said reassuringly.

  After Pieter and the horses had left, Jemson held out a hand to both of the wizardesses. “Won’t you come sit down or accept a bite to eat, perhaps something to drink? You must be thirsty at least. If I don’t miss my mark, you’ve been traveling since dawn.”

  “And part of last night too,” Dylanna affirmed. “I, for one, could do with a cup of water, or perhaps tea.”

  Leila nodded in agreement and Jemson gestured for them to find seats on the logs surrounding his fire. Then he poured them each a cup of tea.

  “It’s not as hospitable as the palace, but this has become a sort of home, and it’s all I have to offer right now,” he commented.

  “How goes the fight?” Dylanna asked, taking a sip from her tin cup.

  “It’s over for now,” Jemson replied. “The seheowks have been destroyed, or at least, this batch of them is gone.”

  “Destroyed?” Leila almost choked on her tea in disbelief. “How?”

  “Apparently one of my Aetoli captains is also a dragon ward,” Jemson replied. “It was only with the help of his dragon that we were able to beat the vile creatures back.”

  “Dragon ward?” Dylanna asked. She and Leila shared a startled glance, then both wizardesses leaned forward in sudden interest.

  Jemson stared at them. “You didn’t know? You didn’t send her?”

  Dylanna crossed her arms. “There is much to explain, and very little time. First, we must give you Brant’s message, then you will tell us more about this dragon ward.”

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  The small company stretched their legs, relieved to be standing on solid ground once more. Everyone was waterlogged, and the warmth of the Dragon’s Eye felt good as it beat down on them, helping them dry out.

  Kamarie twisted her hair in her hands, wringing out the excess water. “Ugh, I hate the way sea water corrupts everything it touches. I’ll never get the taste out of my mouth. I think I’d rather face Ghrendourak than travel like that again.”

  Kiernan pulled his mandolin off his back and began examining it and tuning the strings to make sure it had not gotten wet or suffered during the journey. “That is because you have not met Ghrendourak yet.”

  Kamarie nodded, her expression sobering a bit. “True. That was a thoughtless thing for me to say. I do hope I never meet him although avoiding him altogether does not seem very likely at this point.”

  Oraeyn chuckled, admiring her straightforward sense of humor and amazed all over again at her unflinching courage. He could tell she was scared—they were up against an enemy they knew little about, with enough power to take over all the known world and set dragons shuddering in trepidation—and yet she would never back down. Oraeyn almost pitied Ghrendourak if Kamarie ever got a hold of him. His jaw clenched; he would make sure that evil being never got close to the woman he loved. He had made a promise to keep her safe, and keep her safe he would, even if it meant his own death.

  The dragons stretched as well, their sinuous necks and tails straightening and then curling as the water dripped from their massive bodies. When they had finished, the three magnificent creatures transformed so as to be less conspicuous. Oraeyn decided that he would never cease to be amazed at a dragon’s ability to shape shift. After giving them a few moments to rest, Brant told them there should be a cabin not far ahead.

  “I once received help from the family that used to live there. I doubt they would begrudge us the use of their shelter,” Brant informed them.

  “Lead on,” Oraeyn replied.

  They followed Brant as he made his way across the beach, towards a deep and ominous line of trees. It was slow going in the soft sand, as they followed the tree line and skirted sand dunes.

  “What are we looking for, Brant?” Kamarie asked after they had hiked some distance.

  “A cabin,” Brant replied tersely. “I seem to have misjudged our landing. It is farther up the beach than I remembered.”

  “What is in this cabin?” Oraeyn inquired.

  “A family helped me last time I was here. We may need their help once more. Come on, it’s just a bit of a walk around that way,” Brant pointed and continued trudging.

  They were all quite dry and weary by the time they came within sight of what they sought: a quaint little cabin tucked into the forest edge. A patch of green grass surrounded the home, and wildflowers grew up around the stone path leading up to the wooden door.

  The company’s spirits lifted to see the cabin still standing. Oraeyn had been secretly thinking that it had been a long time since Brant had visited this land, the cabin could have been destroyed while he was gone. None of them knew it, but Brant was worried about the same thing, and he was relieved to see the cabin still intact and exactly where it had been almost forty years ago.

  The weary and bedraggled group made their way cautiously up the path to the front door. Kamarie felt soothed by the sight of the wildflowers bordering the little path. They were pretty and reminded her of home.

  Brant strode up to the door and knocked. Nothing happened. Oraeyn blew out a breath he had been holding and opened his mouth to speak. Then the door swung open and whatever words Oraeyn had been about to utter died on his lips. At first they could not see who was standing in the doorway because the light inside the house was so dim. Then the person moved out of the doorway and stood in the full light of day.

  It was a woman in her late forties. She had auburn hair that was streaked with grey, but her face was smooth, bearing no wrinkles and possessing a child-like quality. She had a pleasant mouth, and she stood with her head held high. Her chill gaze swept over them, raising goose bumps on Kamarie’s arms. The woman’s eyes seemed strange, wrong in some way. Kamarie looked closer and started in consternation. Her eyes were not just pale, they were the milky-gray color of blindness.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Brant began. “I was wondering if you could tell me what became of the people who used to live here? They were kind to a young boy once who passed through here.”

  The woman’s face turned secretive and amused. “Welcome back, Rhoyan. I have been expecting you.”

  Brant tilted his head to one side, raising an eyebrow in surprise. Then he peered more closely at the woman. “Ina?”

  “The same,” she replied. “How are you?”

  “You were just a child when last I saw you!” Brant stepped forward and took her hand, pressing it warmly between his own, his expression full of joy.

  “Are you so surprised? It has been many years since you left here. We don’t all have the privilege of aging as slowly as you.”

  “Look at you now, all grown up! And your mother…?” Brant’s question trailed off at the sorrow that passed across the woman’s face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Ina patted his hand. “There is much to tell. And you’re one to speak of age, you weren’t much older than a child yourself when last you visited our shores. Won’t you come in? Colas will be back soon.”

  “Colas is still here as well?”

  “As I said, there is much to tell
, much to catch up on before you continue on your quest. Come in, I just started dinner, there is enough for all, and Colas will want to see you. You can take a moment for old friends.”

  They followed Ina into the cottage. The house was much bigger on the inside than it looked from without, and Oraeyn marveled at how comfortably all of them fit. There were chairs enough for everyone, and even the dragons looked at ease in their lanky human forms. Ina bustled about the kitchen; she was remarkably adept at finding things quickly in spite of her blindness. Oraeyn found himself watching her closely, trying to figure out her secret.

  Although he was eager to keep moving, Oraeyn kept his restlessness to himself. Brant appeared to be content to stay where he was, and Oraeyn had no reason to doubt the warrior’s judgment. This place felt safe, and whatever Ina was preparing in the kitchen smelled wonderful. Oraeyn’s stomach was very much aware of the long days of travel and the small, cold rations it had been resigned to, and it complained loudly. Oraeyn’s face flushed, but no one else noticed.

  Then Ina brought out the food, a veritable feast of bread and cheese, cut-up fruits, and a hearty stew filled with vegetables and thick pieces of meat. The travelers attacked it hungrily, and for a while all were silent. When he had eaten enough to slow down a bit, Oraeyn mentioned his astonishment at the amount of food the woman had brought them. Ina winked at him and Oraeyn had the uncomfortable notion that she could see him quite well.

  “We have visitors here on the outskirts of the Wylder Wood more often than you might think,” she said, her voice placid. “My mother taught me to always be prepared to offer hospitality to anyone who might need it.”

  “A good standard to live by,” the minstrel said approvingly between bites.

  Ina turned in the minstrel’s direction and nodded. As she did so, the front door swung open.

  The travelers looked up from their meal to see who this newcomer was. Ina’s face lit up. There was a patient and welcoming look on her face and Oraeyn understood that whoever had just arrived was no threat. He looked over at the door, wondering what manner of person this was.