* * *
Arfael jumped on the dragon’s back just as the Kel’madden Trooper let loose another arrow. It ricocheted off his shoulder. Arfael swiped the man out of his seat. No one would be guiding this dragon home. The other one, the Nirad, was another matter entirely.
He had managed to kill half of the Troopers, but the rest were dug in fast against the back of the tower. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the rest of the Eiras had retreated to the neighbouring building. So there he sat, on the back of a dragon, with thirty Kel’madden and a Nirad in front of him – alone.
He was just wondering what to do about the dragon he was sitting on when he saw Vila exiting the tower from the lower door at the rear of the building. Rage burned in him as he watched the witch climb aboard the Nirad. She was going to get away, again!
He bared his claws and slid down the dragon’s wing, shredding as he went. The dragon let out a cry that was heard by the Kel’madden. Vila looked in his direction. She recognised him – how could she not – and urged those in front to hurry. The Nirad was climbing the wall and flexing its wings before Arfael had covered half the distance. He had to watch as the beast took off. Watch and howl at, yet again, seeing the witch escape. One of these days, she wouldn’t be so lucky.
* * *
Gialyn had heard the blade more than seen it coming. The cold steel had slid into his gut just under his chest. The wave of cold, and the sickly sweat beading on his forehead, had been a shock; he had never expected that that would be what he noticed the most. That, and the taste of blood in his mouth. He had always thought the pain would surpass all other feelings. It was something he’d imagined a lot, every time he was forced to practice with those bloody daggers. Strange how things were never how he had imagined them.
He had seen the officer retreating, and knew that Elspeth was safe. Now he was lying on his back, staring up at the bright lights that danced across the cave ceiling.
His hand floated unconsciously to the blade stuck in him.
“No!” Elucia shouted. “Don’t pull it out.”
Gialyn looked across and saw the woman rushing towards him. Behind her, half a dozen of the Eiras guards fanned out around the outer room. It was over.
He heard Elspeth crying softly as she knelt by his side. Would that be the last sound he would ever hear? “I love you,” he said. “I love you, Elspeth Tanner.” He gave a silent prayer that his words were loud enough.
“I know you do, you bull-headed city boy. I know you do,” Elspeth said, stroking the hair from his eyes.
He slipped into darkness.
CHAPTER 21
Aleban’s Lot: Part Four
Aleban opened his eyes when he heard footsteps approaching. He had just managed to doze off – a feat in itself, given the heat and the hard floor of the old mining tunnel on which he lay. Cursing the noise, he lifted his head and saw that the afternoon scouting party had returned.
Farnok dropped on his haunches and stretched his back. The black wolf looked tired and more irritable than usual. “We should be heading east,” the wolf said – not for the first time. “The Black Hand isn’t going anywhere. We could be at Bailryn by now.” He glanced around as if looking for a response. Nobody answered. After a scornful snort, he dunked his head into a large water bucket.
The narrow tunnel was crowded; the loping Cren, sitting with their backs against the wall, took up one side, and a dozen Darkin wolves lounged wherever there was space enough to curl themselves up to sleep – if they could; most hadn’t managed to sleep any more than Aleban had. The tunnel smelt of sweat and damp fur and was considerably hotter than it was outside. Still, it hid them from the large company of Black Hand who were camped to the north.
They had not come very far from Oxley, barely twelve miles. They had followed the Black Hand as the mercenaries marched along the bank of the Witham. After a day, the Black Hand had set up camp in a small valley north of the river. There they had stayed, waiting. But for what? There seemed no good reason for the Hand to sit and do nothing.
“We need to know what they are doing,” Aleban said. “They are up to something. You agreed it’s not safe to leave them.”
Farnok lifted his head from the bucket. “I didn’t agree to sit here while Bailryn is sacked. We’ll have been here three days. Come morning, we should be gone.”
Renik twisted round from where he sat leant up against a thick, wooden post. “If they’re tied to the invasion – which we’ve agreed they are – they will have their orders.” The Cren turned back and continued whittling his arrow. “They certainly haven’t gathered just to sit in a field. How many are there now? Three thousand? A force like that could turn the tide. We need to discover their plans, and then make a run for Bailryn.”
“Their plans?” Farnok laughed. “Their plans should be obvious. It can only be one or the other, either they are waiting to join the Kel’madden, or they’re waiting for more of their own. Whatever the reason, their spears are pointing at Bailryn. We should go, now! Leave scouts, if you think it’s necessary, but the rest of us should go.”
“He has a point,” Aleban admitted.
Farnok gazed at him and tilted his head. “Why thank you, Aleban. It’s so nice to have your blessing.”
Renik stared at the half-finished arrow in his hand while tapping his knife against the shaft. He appeared to be thinking – he did that a lot. “We still have a responsibility to—”
Sarai and Kalina rushed into the tunnel, out of breath and pointing towards the entrance. “They’re coming! Three of them, they saw us filling the waterskin and—”
“And you led them here!” Farnok growled.
Sarai glared at him. “What would you have us do? We’re unarmed.”
Renik, like almost everyone else, had jumped to his feet. “Never mind all that,” he said. “Quickly, come away from the opening and be quiet.”
Sarai let Renik pull her to the side. Kalina was already deeper inside the tunnel, being comforted by Arlec. Another Cren – Nyen, Aleban thought – was busy blowing out the lamps. Silence fell on the tunnel, and they all waited in the utter darkness.
Aleban heard the intruder before he saw the man…
“Come here, pretty. It’s no good hiding; we saw you run in here. Where are you?” The man’s voice was taunting, threatening.
There was no doubt in Aleban’s mind what they were after – and Kalina barely old enough to hunt. He wanted to run at the man but waited for the other to catch up.
“Pretty one, you and your friend come out now. There’s a good girl. Don’t make me come lo— What the… run!”
The man barely had time to turn. Two Darkin and a Cren had him and his friend cornered. Aleban heard a shout – no, a cry – coming from behind. One of the Black Hand had thrown something, probably a dagger. Snarling and growling mixed with shrill screams as the wolves retaliated. A gurgling sound replaced the scream, and a moment later, there was silence again.
“Light the lamps,” Renik ordered.
Aleban could see shadows moving in the darkness. He had to blink when someone struck a tupstick to light his lamp. More were lit, and the lights raised on poles, illuminating the length of the tunnel.
“Fool,” Farnok muttered. “Why did he have to attack? We could have done with asking them a few questions.”
The two men lay face down in the dirt, one with a knife still in his hand. Blood had pooled about the necks of both men. It wouldn’t have taken much for a Darkin to tear out their throats. Farnok had probably killed both of them.
“There were three!” Sarai said, squinting along the dimly lit tunnel. “Where’s the other one?”
“Farnok!” Renik shouted.
The wolf was already halfway to the mouth of the tunnel. Aleban followed.
It was near to dusk outside. The tunnel opened onto a dirt-filled clearing that extended south towards a thin line of trees where they kept the horses. If the Black Hand had seen them first, they would have had more than three
of them to deal with. Aleban shuddered at the thought. Turning north, he followed Farnok to the top of the slope that stretched out above the tunnel. The dust cloud from the escaping man’s horse was already settling over the ridge, three hundred paces away. It was too late; by the time they caught up, he would be within sight of his camp, probably shouting and waving his arms all the way down the track.
Renik caught up with them. “It looks like our decision has been made for us, Farnok. We leave, now!”
The Cren were already making for their horses when Aleban came back down to the clearing. Before long, they were all on their way south. The trail along the stream was taking them further away from Bailryn, but there was no choice. They had to run.
An hour later, they turned northeast and followed the Witham River in the direction of Townhill. They were two days from Bailryn. Two days if they took it steady, Renik wanted them there by the following evening. Aleban agreed.
They pushed on into the night, the three-quarter moon lighting their way. Aleban trotted out front with Farnok to his left. The two didn’t speak, but he knew the big wolf was anxious. If the Black Hand rode north, they would likely run into his kin. Qiel, his son, was leading that group east along the Great Western Road, and his mate, Goranae, was with them, too. With any luck, they were already past Redgate and on their way northeast. That road would steer them out of danger, until they reached Bailryn, at least.
“We should go north, cut across country. We’d save half a day,” Farnok said.
Aleban was surprised to hear the tone in his voice; he was right – the big Alpha was worried. “Perhaps; we can at least cut out Townhill,” Aleban told him.
Farnok nodded but said nothing.
Aleban wanted to reassure him, tell him that Qiel and Goranae were safe with two thousand Cren marching along with them, but that seemed wrong. He didn’t know Farnok, but he was sure shining a light on his weakness would not go down well. Besides, before he could say anything, Renik rode up beside them.
“Come with me,” the Cren said. He turned his mount without so much as a glance back to check they were following.
Aleban trotted after him to the top of a rim of long grass overlooking the western Valley of Kalidhain. Renik had dismounted and was slowly crawling his way to the top. Farnok tucked in behind, then he and Aleban lay down either side of the Cren.
Ahead of them, stretching out for probably two miles, was a column of humans – mercenaries, by the look of it: there were no family wagons, and the men were in formation – marching towards the Black Hand’s camp.
“At least we know what they were waiting for,” Farnok said.
“There must be five thousand, if not more,” Renik replied. “How did they gather so many?”
“Linfield,” Aleban said. “I heard that town is full of supporters of the Republic. They probably volunteered.”
Five thousand mercenaries and three thousand Black Hand at the eastern flank; gods knew how many Kel’madden would be coming from the north. Aleban sighed. “We should turn north, now! You and I, Farnok; we should turn north and not stop until we reach Bailryn.”
“I’ll come with you,” Renik said. “The rest can continue to the southern gate. We three will cut north. I’ll take a remount; we’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.”
Aleban wasn’t sure if a horse could make it that far without rest, not even swapping with a remount, but he wasn’t going to say that to Renik. They would probably need a Cren; two wolves running alone – especially one the size of Farnok – would likely get an arrow in their side before questions were asked.
“Agreed,” he said, and Farnok nodded.
“Come. We’ll tell the others to continue northeast to the Halem Road.”
A few minutes later, the three of them were setting off on their own: north, on a direct path to Bailryn. Oh, Arlec had complained, so had Sarai, but there was no time to argue. Time was against them; the palace needed to know what lay to the west, and soon enough to do something about it. The moon shone, and the Kalidhain Grasslands lay before them. It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 22
Two Heads
Captain Nana Doran allowed herself to rest easy for the first time since leaving the Karan Valley. They had finally made it through the Tunnels of Aldregair. Taking her helmet off, she sat on a rock and roughed up her hair with her fingers. Unsurprisingly, there had been a “helmets on” order while inside the tunnels, and now her hair needed washing. A bath would be better.
The tunnels had been torturous, and not just because of the heat. Forty-thousand Kel’madden had entered. Of those, more than a few had suffered broken legs or arms, cuts or bruises.
Yet, if broken legs were the worst of it, she might have considered herself lucky… It wasn’t long before men had started to complain about hearing noises. Some had said they saw strange lights, while others insisted that the very air itself was closing in tight around them. By the morning, many had downed shields and spears and refused to continue. Many of those who hadn’t seen or heard anything had become fearful and hesitant, especially those who had heard the stories about the last time a Kel’madden army tried to cross the Karan Ridges through the tunnels. A few of those men had gone mad: screaming, babbling incoherently, and running back north – even when it would have been quicker to carry on.
Insects were a constant nuisance: strangely coloured spiders that seemed to like nothing more than to crawl into boots, down backs or up sleeves. Worst of all were the horses. They had only brought five-hundred of the cavalry – a blessing Nana was most grateful for; if they had taken a full regiment, likely as not, they would still be in the tunnels. Panicked horses had caused most of those broken bones. Indeed, the animals had suffered their own breaks, too, and had to be put down, and then butchered for their meat. All in all, she was glad to be out – very glad.
“I hope we are staying here for the night,” Skelk said, dropping his pack by a rock and then sitting down with his back against it.
The sergeant, usually the last to complain, appeared drawn and pale. His jokes had ended after the first day when a horde of ravenous beetles attacked her group. Six men had died before they managed to stem the flow. And that wasn’t the only time it had happened. Nobody had rested easy. Most walked with their blankets wrapped around their heads and socks or wash-clothes forced into sleeves or tied around ankles.
“I doubt it,” she told him. “I think the general will want us to camp at the river.”
“And how far is that?” Skelk asked, shaking his head and glancing at Kalf and Bertog. Both corporals wore the same reluctant expression.
“Two hours… three, maybe. It would have been closer if we had used the first tunnel, but…” She shrugged. Usually, she would try to encourage her men, but this time, after what they had been through, it seemed… shallow to put a positive note on it.
“Ah well, let’s make the most of it while we can.” Skelk reached into his pack and brought out his ration bag. “We’ll have a little picnic while we’re waiting for the man to make his mind up.”
Nana smiled at him. She could always rely on Skelk to lighten the mood. Although this time, she had to admit it was the last thing she had expected. “Good idea,” she said, pulling her own pack closer. “And we’ll have some zachi, if there’s any left.”
Skelk raised a brow. “Oh don’t you worry about that, ma’am; we’ve always got some zachi.”
Nana laughed, and they settled, backs leant against the cool rock, to have their picnic.
* * *
Sek’s temper boiled at the sight of General Turasan. The dragons – his dragons – had been sitting out in the open for a full day without sight or sound of the army. Not that he was worried about an attack, but there was no food and no water! Dragons had to have water, lots of it, and regularly. Another hour and they would have had to fly to the river, regardless of whether it would risk them being seen by the enemy.
“I don’t want your excuses, General
,” Sek said before the man could open his mouth. “Be gone. Come back in an hour when I have calmed down. And send the water wagons up.”
The general stood at the edge of the flat clearing for a long moment, scowling at him before he about-faced and marched back the way he came, waving his arms about and muttering orders. The fool actually thought he was in charge; it was almost funny. Vila will throw him to the wolves when she has finished with him. Once unification is complete, only pureblood Eiras will lead the allied forces. It was a miracle the incompetent idiot had made it this far. What did Vila see in him? A tool, yes, but why give a human all that responsibility? And a southerner at that.
Sek detested this country – no, not the country; the people. They were too self-indulgent, each one caring only for their own ends. They were weak, petty and childish, wallowing in their own pathetic existence, never once considering the needs of the many. Vila was right to invade; only she could bring order, bring the strength that would be required to defeat Diobael. It irritated him to the bone that the fools could not see it; that they had to teach them this lesson when the message was so obvious: Vila was their saviour!
* * *
Nana sat up straight and hid the cup of zachi behind her pack when she saw the general approach. His face looked like a thunderhead; the man must have been arguing with Sek again. She didn’t know why he bothered; the Black Dragon did what he wanted, when he wanted. Not even Vila’slae had much control over him. But then Sek and Vila usually agreed on everything. So much so, it was as if they had the same mind.
“You,” the general said, pointing at her. “Find the water wagons and escort one over to the dragons. See to it personally, and be quick about it! Oh, and ready your men, we are leaving for the river as soon as the last of the horses have been fed.”
The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1) Page 111
