Yole noticed the worried expression on her face, and he smiled at her. “Oraeyn, Brant, and Dylanna will be fine,” he said, “they will be at the border of the Harshlands waiting for us and then we will all travel together again.”
Kamarie gave him a quick smile, knowing that she could not speak to him of her fears. “Of course they will.”
Then, reluctantly, they both stood up and set off again. As they walked, Kamarie pointed out to Yole what plants were edible and recited to him which parts of certain plants could be used for healing different ailments; she also pointed out which ones were poisonous. She named many animals that they caught glimpses of as they journeyed along and asked Yole to repeat back to her everything she taught him. Yole proved to be a surprisingly quick learner and a very good student. Before long he could recite back to her all of the plants and animals that she had pointed out to him, as well as their uses. Kamarie was impressed at the speed with which he learned, and she told the boy so. Yole beamed with pride at her praise and walked a little taller, rehearsing the things that she had taught him with more confidence.
As the Dragon’s Eye began to set and the shadows grew long, Kamarie and Yole came to the edge of the forest. Before them now were long stretches of fields and farmland; far across the fields, they could see where the forest started up again. Next to where they had come out of the forest there stood a small farmhouse with a gentle cloud of smoke billowing out of a red brick chimney. Planted around the house were pretty flowers in neat little gardens. The house seemed cheerful with bright green shutters and a tidy brown door. The place looked homey and welcoming, and it was all they could do to keep from running to it and knocking on the door.
“We can sleep indoors tonight!” Yole said smiling. “I bet the owners of this house will let us sleep in their hayloft if we ask them, like we did on the way to Pearl Cove.”
Kamarie shook her head, remembering the last time that they had slept in a hayloft. She could still remember the dark figure slinking towards them, his sword drawn and his menacing presence threatening them all. She remembered Brant’s swift and deadly action and shuddered. She did not want to chance a Dark Warrior finding them again, especially since they did not have Brant with them this time.
“No, we will sleep in the woods tonight, and then tomorrow we can ask around in the village to see if we are still going in the right direction. We can also ask some questions to find out if any of the others have passed through this way before us. And maybe we can buy some food.”
Yole did not protest her decision to stay in the forest for another night, but Kamarie could tell that he was disappointed. She could relate, for she also had allowed herself to be tempted by thoughts of a pillowy blanket and a warm bed and a fire crackling in a small fireplace. Still, she had to be cautious. There was no telling where the Dark Warriors might appear or how much they knew. This was the sort of village that they might have passed through. There was probably even an inn closer to the center of the village, an inn that would be rife with gossip that anyone could listen to in a crowded taproom, and she could not take the chance that their enemies might hear of their passing this way.
chapter
TWELVE
Kamarie awoke to a sheet of cold rain falling on her face. She pulled her thin blanket up over her head and groaned in dismay. The blanket was soaked through, and the dye was running off her face in little rivers. She could hear Yole off to her left, whimpering under his breath. She looked over at him; he was huddled up in his own sopping wet blanket, gritting his teeth and shaking with cold. Kamarie marveled at his fortitude. He was cold, wet, and miserable, and yet he had not tried to wake her or get her to change her mind about spending the rest of the night in the forest. She wondered, had she been in the same predicament as he, whether or not she would have acted with the same self-control.
Probably not, she decided ruefully. It was very dark, but the Toreth was still low in the sky, meaning that the night was still very young. The prospect of staying where they were made Kamarie cringe. She sighed and looked around. The small shelter they had created was useless against the rain, and there had been no better prospects when they had hunted around earlier for a place to camp. She knew they would find no spot drier than the one they occupied now.
Kamarie stood up slowly, her own teeth chattering with cold, and she went over to where Yole was. “Let’s go,” she said, shaking him by the shoulder, “it is not that late yet, perhaps the owners of that house will let us dry ourselves by their fireplace until this rain lets up a bit.”
As she spoke, lightning began to streak across the sky and thunder rumbled loudly. The rain beat down on them even harder. The two wet and weary travelers held their blankets over their heads to keep the water from soaking them further. They ran as fast as they could to the little house that they had seen earlier and knocked on the door.
A middle-aged woman opened the door in answer to Kamarie’s knocking. She was short and plump with graying hair, sparkling eyes and a merry smile. She took one look at the two bedraggled figures standing on her doorstep and practically pulled them into the house.
“Get in here wid you, oot o’ the rain,” she exclaimed in a strong accent. “Come dry yerselves roond the fire and tell me what ye be doing oot of doors in weather like this.”
“Thank you kindly ma’am,” Yole said gratefully.
The woman led the two of them into the house, and then all three sat around the fire. The warmth of it was very welcome after the soaking rain that had chilled them to the bone. The woman bustled around and soon brought out two sets of clothes.
“My name be Marghita. These belonged to my chil’ren, when they was smaller. Now they’re all grown and live doon the road a spell. Their little ‘uns be too small yet fer these, so I keep ‘em here till they be needed agin.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Kamarie said. “My name is Leota, and this is my youngest brother, Ian. It is very nice of you to take us in on such a night. We got a little lost in the dark and I had no idea where the village inn might be.”
“Oh, it be a ways from here, we’re about the furthest house from it. You would ne’er had made it on a night like this ‘un.”
Kamarie and Yole each took turns changing in a little room where the washtub was kept, then they returned to the fire and the woman hung their wet clothes on a handy rod near the fire.
“There now, those will be dry by mornin’. This is no night to be travelin’ in,” the woman said. “What do you be doing oot, two youngsters like yerselves?”
“We are traveling to visit my older brother,” Kamarie lied. “He lives in a small town near the border of the Harshlands, but we seem to have lost the trail.”
“Ah, the Harshlands, them that lives near there be brave souls indeed,” their hostess said.
“Do you know which direction from here we should go in order to get to the Harshlands?” Kamarie asked.
The woman smiled. “Jest keep going east from here and ye cannot be missing it.”
Kamarie nodded. “Thank you,” she said. Then after a slight pause, she went on in a more cautious tone, “You would not happen to know if any strangers have been through here in the past couple of days?”
The woman looked at her inquisitively. “I be not thinkin’ so lass, but could you be describing these mysterious strangers?”
“A tall man with dark hair, and a stony face. A boy about my age with light brown hair and green eyes; he is a few inches taller than myself and carries himself like a warrior. They both carry swords. The third is a woman, she is very beautiful and slender and she has long brown hair, brown eyes and a quiet look of strength about her.”
The woman shook her head. “No one like that has been through here; in fact, there has been no one new around here at all exceptin’ you two.”
Kamarie sighed. At least that means no Dark Warriors either, she thought. “Oh well, they must be traveling a bit slower than us... they’re relatives of ou
rs as well, my brother... he’s getting married, that’s why we’re traveling so far to see him.”
“Well! A wedding, that sounds grand. My congratulations to yer brother.”
They sat in silence for a while, sipping some warmed tea that the woman had fixed for them. Then their hostess spoke again in a decisive tone.
“Now, I have extra blankets for ye. Ye can sleep here in this room for the rest of the night if ye be wishin’ it. Me husband spent the day over in the next village at the market, ‘tis but a few hours’ journey and I be expecting ‘im back soon, so do not be startled if ye hear the door opening. Would ye like some warm biscuits and stew? Me husband will have had a cold supper on the road, so I made fresh biscuits for him to have with hot beef stew when he gets home. I made aplenty, more than I ought, truly.”
They accepted her offer eagerly. After they downed the warm food, they thanked the woman for her hospitality, promised that they would not be scared if they heard people walking around later, and then promptly fell asleep in their blankets near the hearth, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the coziness of the cottage, their bellies full and satisfied for the first time in days. The woman studied the two forms sleeping before her fire for a while, then pursed her lips and nodded her head as if she had decided something important. Then she got up and cleaned up their dishes and went into her own room.
Kamarie woke to full alertness several hours later when she heard the door of the cottage open. She remained still, keeping her eyes shut and listening intently. After a moment she allowed her eyelids to flicker open slightly so that she could see. The fire had burned low and she could just make out a shadowy form of the tall figure standing in the doorway. She tensed, ready to spring, but then she saw their hostess run to the figure and hug him.
“Enreigh,” she whispered joyfully, “how was yer trip?”
“Prosperous,” he said.
The woman put a finger to her lips to shush him, and then she pointed to where Kamarie and Yole were sleeping.
“Who are they?” Enreigh asked quietly.
The woman hesitated, then said, “They say they’re traveling to a brother’s wedding. But I think that they might be Iosten’s two runaways. He came over today and told me that two of his laborers were missin’ and that he was putting out the alert for them all over town.”
“I should go talk to him and find out,” Enreigh said, starting to shrug back into his coat.
“Enreigh! For shame, it is late and raining. The Toreth has long been passin’ the top of the sky. Ye be needing rest, ye’ve had a hard day’s travel, and these children will be here in the morning.”
He consented readily. “All right, but first thing in the morning…”
“Aye. Aye, first thing in the morning,” his wife agreed.
Kamarie lay very still, thinking hard. She knew that it would be fairly easy to prove that they were not the runaway laborers. She also knew that if they left now it would look as though they were guilty and half the town would be chasing them until they were described to Iosten and he told everyone that they were not his runaways. But, staying to prove their innocence would cost them precious time, perhaps an entire day or two, and energy. In less than a moment, Kamarie had made up her mind.
She waited until she had heard no sound from the other room for a long while, and then she waited for a little longer, all the time reciting her lessons on patience silently to herself. Finally, when she was sure that their two hosts were truly asleep, she rose silently, wrapping up her bedroll and picking up her pack. She touched Yole’s shoulder and shook him gently. He rolled over and groaned a little but fell silent when she touched a finger to her lips.
“Shhh.”
Yole stared at her; then whispered, “What’s wrong?”
Kamarie shook her head silently and mouthed the word, “Later.”
They changed back into their now dry clothes and gathered up their few belongings. Then Kamarie reached into a small pouch and placed a gold ryal on the table. She knew this was overly generous, but she was grateful for the kindness of these people, her people. She also figured this gesture would allay any suspicions about them being run-away laborers, for there was no way a simple run-away would have that kind of money ... or part with it.
They carefully opened the heavy door and crept silently out of the house into the waning night. At least, Kamarie thought, it finally stopped raining.
❖ ❖ ❖
Rhendak was seething with rage as he paced back and forth before the Council of Elders. They sat, in patient silence. The tension in the room grew unto bursting before Rhendak whirled and spoke through clenched teeth.
“I called you here to tell you of a great treachery. Nnyendell and Mystak are free and have vanished. The sentry whose worthless life I gave back to him has fled as well.”
If the Elders were not expecting this piece of information, they hid it well, for they showed no great surprise. The truth was that they had almost expected as much ever since Rhendak had shown mercy to the sentry several nights before. The Council did not have the ruling power of the King, but they did hold power in their own right with their age and experience. Rhendak was young, and he relied on their experience and wisdom that age had not yet taught him. The Elders knew that Rhendak must learn the hard way discerning the difference between compassion and justice if he ever hoped to amount to anything as King of the dragons. They knew that Rhendak was strong and that he would make a good king if he could allow himself to be taught, if he could learn from his mistakes. They also knew that he was young and idealistic and that mistakes would be made before he could learn from them. Rhendak did not yet understand the deep capacity for treachery of his own people, and he was, as yet, unprepared to deal with it correctly. However, the Elders had high hopes for Rhendak. They hoped that he could do what many thought was impossible: that he could unite the people of Krayghentaliss. They could see a bright future where the dragons, pegasi, gryphons, centaurs, and unicorns came together and put aside their petty disputes to become a single mighty force, reuniting with the world above, by force if need be.
One of the Elders tapped the ground, requesting the floor. Rhendak stopped pacing and faced him, granting him permission to speak.
“What does Your Majesty propose to do?” the Elder asked.
Rhendak hesitated for a moment, holding on to his ideals of mercy for just an instant longer. Then he spoke, “They must be brought to jusssstice.”
“And what is that justice, Majesty?” the Elder asked slyly.
Again, Rhendak hesitated briefly, and then he spat out the sentence that the traitors must face, “Death.”
“And if the three of them will not come peaceably to face their trial and punishment?” the Elder asked cannily.
“Then kill them on sight.” Rhendak did not hesitate this time, but he said the words with no relish.
The tension in the room lightened, and a few of the Elders even had to fight not to smile with pride as they saw how their young king was learning. He was beginning to understand their expectations and was beginning to see why the laws had to be so harsh. It was a pity that he had to learn of the devious minds of his people through something as great and destructive as Nnyendell and Mystak’s treason, but the Elders knew that hard lessons would not be forgotten easily.
Rhendak stayed and helped outline the details surrounding the plans to capture the traitors, and then he retired to his own chamber. He was tired, and he felt as though a great burden rested upon his shoulders. He had much to think over, and he desired to be alone. Rhendak had always believed that the laws of his people were too strict and that the punishments were oftentimes too severe as well, but he began now to see why this was. The Elders had been disappointed by his idealism and merciful nature. Rhendak leaned towards mercy and they to justice. He thought they were simply old-fashioned, but now understood that their wisdom saw more clearly than his ideals. They had known the depth of treason in N
nyendell and Mystak’s hearts and had tried to protect him from that evil. And yet, sadly, they had bowed to his decision, letting him learn from his own mistake.
As he pondered the events of the past few days, he began to understand things as never before. He saw the devious trickery in his fellow dragons, and as he recognized their cunning, he became aware of the guile he himself was capable of. Recognizing the natural cunning and deceit within himself he realized in a flash of insight that the other dragons were certainly capable of the same; as well as much, much more. He paced back and forth across the huge stone floor.
“What would you have me do, Shalintess?” he growled, but Shalintess did not answer, could no longer answer.
Shalintess had loved, inspired, and shared his idealistic dreams of a peaceful monarchy. She had also shared in his dreams of doing away with the harsh image of the Dragon King, but now he understood that he could not change that image any more than he could change the nature of his people. Rhendak was now aware of the magnitude of the treachery before him. That was why the first dragon kings had instituted the laws. They, too, had shared in his idealism, dreaming of peace between dragons and all other races, but they understood better than he the inherent difficulty in achieving that coveted peace. Stories about his people were not wrong, the stories that depicted them as ravenous beasts who laid waste to the countryside and made off with whole flocks of sheep and the occasional beautiful maiden. His people were strong in magic and will, and they could rule by terror and cunning, but they were also small in numbers and had been overwhelmed by the other races. Fear of the dragons had been their undoing. And so, the first King, and the first Elder Council of the dragons had instituted laws that were strict, that were harsh, that would be more fearsome than their own nature, in order to save themselves. It was an eye-opening realization, and Rhendak found his mind reeling as he accepted the truth he had never seen before: that his idealism and the Law were one and the same.
King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1) Page 24
