Arnaud looked up at the tallest member of the group and his eyes widened in relief and concern at the sight of his old friend. He reached out and clasped his friend’s arm.
“Brant! It is good to see you, my old friend.” Arnaud peered into Brant’s face. “The years have certainly been kind to you,” he exclaimed. Then he paused, processing what Kamarie had just said, “Imojean...?”
Brant shook his head, and Arnaud read the raw grief in the man’s eyes.
“I am so sorry,” Arnaud’s voice grew thick. “Schea and Kali?”
Zara’s eyes grew misty as Brant nodded wordlessly. She reached out and laid a hand on his arm.
“I never got to meet your wife, not really,” she said. “Arnaud read me the letters you sent when your children were born. I wish I had gotten the chance to know your family. If there is anything we can do...”
“Thank you, both of you,” Brant replied, his voice carefully steady, “but what I need right now is to focus on our enemies and create a plan for stopping them.”
“Arnaud has been practically living in the library trying to find any information that will help us to turn back this threat. If you have anything to add, it is most welcome,” Zara said.
There was a tumbling of words as the five travelers all tried to pour out their story at once. Eventually the chatter subsided, and they deferred to Brant to explain most of the latest events. After Brant described what had been happening in the south over the past few weeks, there was a long pause. Finally, Arnaud spoke.
“So you are telling me that there is a Dark Warrior, perhaps more than one, in Aom-igh already? And he... they are on the loose?”
“Yes, your majesty,” Brant replied.
“How did they get so far inland?”
“I mean to find that out.”
“Is there anything else?” Arnaud asked, recognizing something in his friend’s eyes that told him Brant was holding something back.
“I believe I was the target of the attack on my village.”
“What? Why?”
Brant pursed his lips. “I would prefer not to speculate on that just now.”
“But you do believe that you are the reason for this entire threat?” Arnaud asked.
Brant dropped his eyes. “Yes, I believe so.”
“I think you flatter yourself. Why would anyone from the Dark Country be after you?” Arnaud paused, giving Brant another chance to explain but the other man remained silent. Arnaud continued, “My intelligence tells me that other islands have allied themselves with the Dark Country already; apparently Roalthae joined willingly. Prince Elroy is the sovereign over the barrier islands, which means that the Dark Country did not have to struggle for their foothold there. And then there is the prophecy I found.”
Brant started at the word “prophecy” and then he lowered his gaze self-consciously as he felt the gazes of the others fall upon him. His face turned dark and he muttered something under his breath about “superstition,” and then fell silent.
“What prophecy?” Kamarie asked. She had remained silent throughout the entire conversation, but this bit of news was enough to spark her curiosity.
Arnaud pulled out the piece of paper that he had copied the poem onto and showed it to them. “I have not been very successful in figuring out its meaning, perhaps you can provide some insights. I only know the sword that the riddle mentions is the Lost Sword of King Llian.”
At his words, Oraeyn jumped a bit. He quickly scanned the short poem, and his hand strayed unconsciously to the hilt of his sword. Nobody noticed the movement, but Oraeyn felt as though he was suddenly the object of far too much unwanted attention. He did not believe what he was reading, that the sword he carried was the sword of King Llian; it couldn’t be. He started to speak, but Brant was already talking.
“I know what one of the lines means.”
“Which one?” Arnaud asked.
“The one about the dragons. It means that you must send someone to find the dragons and wake them after all these years of hiding. And I know who you should send.”
“What? But the dragons disappeared generations ago; the mission would be doomed before it even began. And who could I send?”
“The dragons retreated, they did not vanish; you know that, Sire. And I think you should send Oraeyn, Darby, Yole, Kamarie, and me to find their refuge and remind them of their promise.”
“No!” Zara exclaimed.
“Zara...” Brant began, but Zara interrupted.
“I just got my daughter back after weeks of worrying about her. I am not about to let her wander the country looking for some of the most dangerous creatures that have ever lived.”
“They are generally peaceful,” Brant replied mildly.
“Once, perhaps, but that was before they felt threatened and exiled themselves into hiding.”
“Mother, please, I want to go,” Kamarie spoke up. Brant gave her a sharp look, but Kamarie held her chin high.
“Arnaud, may I speak with you and the queen alone for a moment?” Brant asked.
Arnaud looked at the faces of those around him and nodded. “Perhaps that would be best. Kamarie, take your friends to the kitchens and see if the kitchen staff can rustle up some food for your companions. Dinner is not for a few hours and you all look as though you could use a good meal or two. Have some food and drink sent up for Brant as well.”
Kamarie wanted to argue, but she recognized the look in her father’s eyes and knew that no amount of arguing was going to change his mind. She nodded and led the others down towards the kitchens.
Once they were alone, Zara turned to Brant. Her eyes were flashing angrily, her lips set in a thin line, her cheeks flushed. “Do you even know where to start looking for the hiding place of the myth-folk?” she demanded.
“I don’t, but I know someone who does.” Brant replied. “As do you... if I am correct in my guess.” He stared at Zara unblinkingly until she lowered her gaze and blushed.
“I forget that you know more about the secrets of Aom-igh than most,” she muttered. “That doesn’t mean I am convinced though.”
“Zara,” Arnaud laid a placating hand on his wife’s shoulder, “let us hear the man out. I am sure Brant has his reasons for suggesting something that sounds so preposterous.”
Brant nodded. “Thank you, I do. There is a legend, a story, if you will, that Aom-igh was attacked by the Dark Country during King Llian’s reign.”
“I have been reading his journals,” Arnaud replied.
“Have you come across the part where he asked the dragons for help?”
“I had skimmed over that a bit, actually,” Arnaud admitted. Then I found the prophecy and I have been focusing on that.”
“Well, he did ask the dragons for help. King Graldon, I believe it was.” Brant glanced questioningly at Zara, who nodded, her eyes filling with grudging respect. “The dragons chose not to fight directly; instead, they gave King Llian a magical sword and with it he defeated the Dark Country.”
“Yes, but we don’t know where that sword is,” Arnaud replied.
Brant smiled, a small, half smile. “It is closer than you think, but I’ll get to that later. King Graldon also promised that the dragons would come to our aid if Aom-igh ever faced such a grave threat again. The dragons may be many things, but liars they are not. They hold their honor and their word as highly as any knight of the realm.”
“You are making a good case for sending an emissary,” Zara said, “but you haven’t explained why it should be our daughter.”
“Who else from the royal family is there?” Brant asked. “Zara, you of all people should know that it would be improper to send the King of the dragons anything less than a royal emissary, that is why King Llian himself went to Graldon all those years ago. He understood the proper etiquette that should be used when addressing the myth-folk. Arnaud is needed here, overseeing the defense of Aom-igh. Zara, you are the heart of your people.
They will remain strong as long as they see your strength. Kamarie is the only choice for this mission.”
“Darby will go as well, if only for my sake,” Zara replied. “And Oraeyn too, I suppose.”
“Oraeyn has to go for another reason,” Brant said, “for he is carrying King Llian’s sword at his side.”
Arnaud looked up, startled. “What? How do you know?”
Brant’s mouth quirked in a crooked smile. “I just do.”
“But that means...” Zara’s eyes widened and she shared a long look with her husband. “Brant, do you realize what that means?”
“I believe I do,” Brant replied. Arnaud merely looked thoughtful.
“But what about Yole?” Arnaud asked. “Surely the boy is too young to be included on such a dangerous quest?”
“It will be beneficial to him for reasons I wish to keep to myself for now,” Brant replied. Arnaud frowned, but let it slide; he knew Brant well enough to know that the man would not divulge one word more than he should.
Zara grimaced. “I don’t have to like it, but I can’t argue against your logic. Kamarie can go, along with Darby and Oraeyn. But Brant, we are entrusting her to your care, is that understood?”
Brant nodded solemnly.
“I don’t like your odds, but I can’t deny that having the dragons reminded of their promised alliance would be beneficial to all of Aom-igh,” Arnaud paused. “All right, Brant, time is of the essence. Make ready your band, succeed in your mission, and return to us as quickly as possible. We no longer wonder if there is to be an attack. Now the question is simply when. We are all at risk here, and our dear friend has already lost too much. I would avoid war at any price, but if it is thrust upon me, and more importantly on our people, then our enemy will suffer the calamity.”
“I have one request,” Zara spoke quickly. “I have been unable to contact my sister, Leila. She lives in the Harshlands, and we could use her help. When you have completed your quest, would you journey to her home and ask her for her aid in our fight? She will be needed.”
Brant bowed his head. “It would be my honor, my Lady.”
chapter
SEVEN
“Where, exactly, are we going?” Kamarie asked Brant as they set out once more. She was trying not to be too nosy. She knew that Brant must have said something profound to her parents to get them to agree to include her on this quest, and she did not have any desire to do or say anything that might make Brant regret speaking on her behalf.
“We are going to the Pearl Cove to look up an old friend of mine,” Brant replied. “She will be able to help us in our search for the dragons.”
“The Pearl Cove!” Kamarie yelped. “Do we have to go there?”
“What’s the Pearl Cove?” Yole asked.
“It is merely a beach that is covered in pure white sand. The beach is long and wide with dunes of white sand everywhere. The beach slopes down to the ocean and is surrounded by great cliffs that form a sort of natural roof of protection over the entire area,” Brant replied.
“Yes, that is how you would describe what it looks like,” Kamarie agreed, “or at least, that’s the way most of the stories I’ve heard make it sound. But the Pearl Cove is much more than just that. The place is full of legends and myths that are told by travelers; I’ve heard many of the stories the knights tell, and from what they say, the Pearl Cove is a place you want toavoid. ‘It is a place many have visited but few have returned. It is dangerous, surrounded by a thunderstorm and a wall of old magic,’” she quoted. “The place is also inhabited by unspeakable monsters and other dangerous creatures.”
Brant smiled a little. “What you say is true and yet incorrect. The magic is old, but it is also new. Many unusual creatures do seek haven on the Pearl Cove, and yes, the place can be dangerous for the wrong people. It is also true that very few of the people who have journeyed to its crystalline shores ever returned, but the reasons for that are not what you think they are. Besides, you of all people should want to visit the Cove.”
Kamarie wrinkled her brow in confusion. “Why should I want to visit Pearl Cove?”
Brant seemed about to answer when suddenly Darby seemed to suffer from a fit of coughing. The elderly woman doubled over and began choking and gasping, and they had to stop their horses in order to help her. Brant hurried to get her a cup of water from a nearby stream, and she drank it thankfully, apologizing profusely for delaying their journey. Once she could breathe normally, they continued on their way, but the conversation lapsed and Brant never answered Kamarie’s question.
Oraeyn was once again pondering the mystery that seemed to surround their guide and companion. He wondered how Brant managed to answer so many questions without telling them anything and what exactly he meant by saying that the magic was old as well as new. Everything that came out of Brant’s mouth seemed to be yet another mystery to solve. The man spoke with such confidence and cool assurance that it was very difficult not to believe that he knew what he was talking about. But even so, Brant’s words gave away so little that he always left Oraeyn puzzling over what hidden meaning could be behind what he had said.
Yole was concerned by Kamarie’s words. The Pearl Cove did not seem to be a very safe place to be traveling to. He was not sure that he was very comforted by Brant’s description either. He was beginning to like these people very much, and he really enjoyed having his own horse, but he did not at all like the idea of riding into a place that was dangerous and full of fierce creatures.
King Arnaud had offered to lend Yole a horse of his own from the royal stables. Yole had chosen a small, gentle roan mare that had an interesting white marking on her forehead; Yole could not figure out what he thought the mark looked like. He had chosen the horse because it was the most even-tempered and non-threatening mount in the stables. He was unused to horses and for some reason they made him nervous.
The group rode in silence for a long time, each of them wrapped in their own thoughts. Yole was not sure he wanted to find any dragons. If they did happen to find some, who was to say that the dragons would not eat them first and then ask questions later? He did not like that idea at all and tried to shake it from his mind, but the further they rode, the more real the vision of being eaten by a large, ferocious, fire-breathing lizard with wings became to him.
Kamarie was not afraid of the idea of facing dragons, but she was worried that the mighty creatures would not remember their promise. All they had was the scrawling handwritten journal of a king who had been dead for over five hundred years. Perhaps all the dragons who could remember the promise had died out or been killed, or maybe they had never actually said they would help and it was just King Llian’s wishful thinking that had made him write that. She worried about it for a while but realized it was a useless exercise until she knew for sure, so she focused her concentration on learning how to direct Tor without using her reins, the way Brant commanded his horse.
Oraeyn was not thinking about dragons. He was not even thinking about their mission at hand. All he could think about was the sword he now carried at his side and the poem King Arnaud had read to them. It seemed like every time he turned around, someone was talking about King Llian’s sword. Yole claimed that Oraeyn’s sword and the Lost Sword were one and the same, but the boy had also said a dragon that looked like an old man had told him this. That was just too hard to believe. Yet, Oraeyn could not deny that the sword had called him and only him. He could not deny that finding the sword in the mountains was a very odd occurrence, especially since the sword had been protected in such an unusual way. But he could not believe, or perhaps did not want to believe, that the sword was truly King Llian’s.
As evening approached, the travelers came upon a small farmhouse. There was a garden on either side of the path that led up to the door. The few windows were lit with candles that looked cheery and inviting. There was a tattered barn behind the house and a gurgling brook running between them.
“Let’s see if we can spend the night here,” Brant said, swinging down from his horse.
He walked up the path and knocked on the door. There were a few moments of silence, and then the heavy wooden door swung open and a man greeted them. His family was crowding around behind him trying to get a glimpse of the strangers.
“Hello, travelers,” the man’s voice was a bit wary. “What is your business here?”
“We are on an errand for King Arnaud, and we would trouble you for a place to sleep?” Brant replied.
The man relaxed a bit and opened the door a bit wider. “Any King’s Man is welcome in my home. My name is Jhens, and this is my wife Chara, and my sons, Kent and Shaun. And this little one,” he pointed at the tiny little girl who had brown curls and bright, curious brown eyes, “this is Wren.”
Brant nodded a greeting at each of them and smiled at Wren. He said, “My name is Schea, this is Karen, Olin, Dara, and Yvan. We thank you for your hospitality.”
Kamarie shot Brant a questioning look when he introduced her as Karen, but he shook his head slightly so she kept quiet. Jhens showed the five of them to the barn.
“I am sorry that we do not have anything more comfortable for you, but my house is small and this hayloft is the best I have to offer. Chara made the blankets though, and they are very comfortable and quite warm. You can come inside and have dinner with us if you’d like.”
“It is better than sleeping on the road,” Brant replied, “and we will appreciate a roof over our heads tonight as well. You do not have to feed us.”
“Please, I insist,” Jhens said.
Brant frowned. “Well, if you insist, then we thank you. A warm meal is much better than cold rations from our saddlebags. We will be in as soon as we’ve taken care of our horses.”
When Jhens had left, Kamarie asked, “Why did you introduce us like that? Why didn’t you tell him our real names? Don’t you trust him? He seems harmless to me.”
Brant met her questioning gaze. “I had thought that such a small detail would be obvious,” he said in a low voice. “Dark Warriors already annihilated an entire village because they were either looking for me, or because they somehow found out that you were coming, which I highly doubt; however, we cannot rule it out. We are now on a critically important journey, and it is certain we will be hunted. We cannot endanger this family with our real identities. What a person does not know he cannot be forced to tell.”
King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1) Page 12
