The Dragons of Sara Sara

by Robert Chalmers

  “His family insignia I think.” Mused Mei’An. “I will keep it. Perhaps we can locate where he is from with some study of its markings.”

  Luan stood from where he had been squatting. “Perhaps we should be gone from this place. The battle sounds would have carried and the lights would have been visible out here for many miles.”

  ●Chapter 5

  The now silent group began to remount, and getting their bearings, moved off on their original path. Their pace quickened to a fast trot when they heard the thin sounds of a Catharsis hunting horn being blown far away behind them. Another sounded away to their right. Another to their left. It sounded much too close. Tharsians were on the Star Field Plain in large numbers. Three or four hunting packs together were unheard of. Something or someone must be driving them. The warriors of the village would be capable of defending the population. It was well that everyone from the surrounding districts had already moved into the village. Antonin still looked back with a worried frown on his face all the same. His family and friends were back there.

  Antonin rode up alongside Catharina. “I hope, if nothing else, we have drawn them away from the village, Catharina,” he said.“But where are we headed I would like to know? A flight north to nowhere seems an unlikely move to me.”

  Mei’An spoke without turning around. “When we can we will halt to rest, and I will make clear what we must do to begin the search. We must first clear this area as quickly as we can. Be'lal knows we are on the move.”

  Catharina’s eyes opened wide in alarm. “Mei’An – No!” she cried. “Do not use his name.” The alarm was clear in her voice. As if in response to the call to his name, a distant rumble filled the night air and a deep red glow flickered away over the horizon in the direction of Sara Sara. Moments later a sharp wind howled down upon them. Dust, bushes, bits of loose foliage and even small grains of sand and pebbles became airborne. The riders were buffeted by the wind and stung by the sand and pebbles. The horses lunged forward in fear, almost unseating more than one of the party.

  “Give them their heads,” cried Catharina. “We will run before the wind.”

  The wind was howling across the plain in the direction that they had been travelling. All traces of their passage was being blown away.

  Their scent trail was being whipped away in the storm. “The trailing Tharsians would not follow us now,” thought Antonin. Unwittingly the Dark Lord was helping them.

  The group pounded through the darkness, stung by flying sand and thorn bushes. The horses were running in fear. Eyes wide and foaming at the mouth, long streamers whipping away in the wind. They were good horses, but this pace would kill them if kept up for too long. They could not stop though. Not here. There was no shelter from the wind that raged about them, scouring the dusty plain. There was a danger that they would become separated so they rode bunched together, almost knee to knee. Those ahead hearing the stertorous breathing of the horses whose heads loomed almost at their shoulders. Hour after hour they rode on until both horses and riders began to show signs of stress. The wind never let up, but a horse would falter or stumble. A rider would start to slip from the saddle and have difficulty regaining balance. With strips of cloth wound around their heads to keep out the dust, they helped each other where they could.

  Finally Rees shouted to those next to him. “We must stop. The horses,” his words were whipped away in the shrieking wind. “ Will fall and kill us all.” With his arms waving he attracted the attention of all the others finally, and dragged his horse to a walk, leaning forward and patting it on the neck to steady it and assure it that all was well. Like all the people of the plains Rees cared for his horse as though it were a part of his family almost.

  With the group still bunched together and the horses now walking the wind seemed even stronger. It howled and blustered about them as though sensing that it had weakened them.

  Luan leaned close to Mei’An, shouting into her ear. He straightened and pointed away to the North East, slightly away from their current direction and across the path of the wind.

  “We ride to cover.” He called. The words were passed amongst the group one by one. Luan indicated that he would try to lead them to shelter some leagues away. How he knew where they were was anyone’s guess. “Maybe he doesn't.” Thought Antonin, but he would not have placed a copper mark on it.

  The Tharsians of Mordos must now be far behind. All traces of the passing of the band would be gone in the wind.

  It didn't seem long before they came upon broken walls of stone and mud looming out of the darkness around them. They were in the outskirts of what appeared to be an abandoned city. The wind gusted around the ruined buildings in vast swirls of dust. They forced their way deeper into the ruins along cobbled stone streets and past tumbled and collapsed buildings. The buildings had been massive in the beginning, and even now the ruins barely glimpsed in the dark were impressive. Although the place was obviously still on the plains, none of the riders had known of it. It must indeed be far off the usual paths. Eventually an almost complete building appeared in front of them. The horses hooves rang on the stones of the great courtyard as they left the street and entered the grounds of the building. It looked large enough to have been a palace thought Antonin. The massive stone gateway was topped by stone beasts such as the people of the plains had never seen. Strange things that seemed part bear and part eagle. They squatted atop the stone lintel, their sightless eyes fixed on the party passing below. Their wings folded on their backs, poised for instant flight or attack. Catharina and the others could not help shuddering as they passed beneath the sentinels.

  Luan pointed to a doorway atop a flight of broad stone steps. At some time in the distant past there appeared to have been huge wooden doors in place but now they were long gone, only the hinges remained hanging from the stone work. The darkness of the night seemed lit by a strange twilight, just beyond vision, yet enough to allow the riders to see clearly about them. Deep shadows lay all about, and the gaping doorway reminded Antonin of the jaws of a demon waiting to take them. He swallowed as he followed Luan up the broad stairs and into the vast building.

  The place was pitch dark. Not even a glimmer of the strange backlight outside showed in the place. They halted just inside the doorway. The wind outside howled and swirled, but hardly a breath stirred inside. No one wanted to risk riding any further into the building, and all dismounted. The Mare Altan were first off their horses and prowling around the dark room, their spears held in front and tapping the floor alternately in case of collapsed masonry.

  With eyes almost like cats, spears at the ready, if there was danger they would hunt it out before it came to them.

  In the relative calm of the building the horses stood with sides heaving, a lather of sweat. They were too weary even to bother with their surroundings. Suddenly everything went quiet. Deathly still. Like the closing of a stone door on a crypt. The wind had suddenly stopped. Stars could be seen in the night sky outside. A faint tinge along the horizon was clearly the herald of a new day. The bone weary party had ridden before the wind the entire night. At least Antonin, Rees, Gaul and the three girls, Catharina, Edina and Elsa were bone weary. Mei’An and Luan gave no sign that they had even been on more than a short stroll. “How did they do it?” wondered Catharina. She took a cloth from her saddle bags and began to wipe her horse down. The others followed suit. The simple duty bringing them all back to reality after their mad ride.

  Edina called from the back of the vast room. “There is water here in a large cistern!” surprise in her voice. “We can water the horses when they cool.”

  “Elsa, Catharina, Edina – boys. Please attend a moment.” The polite request and quiet voice of Mei’An got their attention as much as anything. “We will rest here an hour or two, and I will tell you a plan of what we must do. I will tell you also of what we will face. But first we rest.”

  Luan was feeding his horse a hand full of oats from his saddle bags. He had laid out his coa
t and blanket roll as well as Mei’An’s. He would be on watch first while the others rested. The others stretched out on the floor tiles where they were. Heads on saddles or saddle bags, or rolled up blankets. Everyone was exhausted from the long night’s action. Antonin’s last thought was to wake in an hour to relieve Luan. The village he had left so far behind only flickered briefly across his thoughts.

  Dagar Domain, sweating behind the hastily erected trestles in the common room, had no time to think of the likely outcome of this day's events. The Trader had finally wound down, with little left to trade now. In any case, the festivities were taking peoples interests now. Music and laughter were powerful forces against bargaining for trinkets. All serious or practical trading had long been done in any case. Except for one bit of business left to do, the Trader was happy to tell his tales of travel and adventure to wide eyed children. There were quite a few adults sitting around with the children. Equally wide eyed. It was one of the delights of a visit by a Trader. Such visits were rare and after all, no news reached the village any other way. Rumours from passing wanderers and hunters, and the occasional visit by a squad of the Queens Guard were the only hints of events in the wider world.

  The Trader kept one eye on the innkeeper meanwhile. He had seen the look the innkeeper had given the bright yellow silk dress, and even in the noise of the crowd had heard the jokes directed at the innkeeper about his “golden talon”.

  Traders had many skills, and reading the faces they saw in a crowd was one of the first they learnt. Master Domain kept his eye on the Trader in turn. With a bit of a lull in serving pots of ale, he called his oldest daughter Desare to the trestles.

  "Serve a while daughter. I have business to attend to.” He said.

  His remark had been timed to the second. At that very moment the Trader approached the trestle table to sample more of the innkeeper’s finest ale.

  Daga Domain looked the Trader in the eye. A direct unblinking gaze, held but for a moment. Unmistakeable to the Trader.

  “Trader,” said Daga. “Would you care to sample a fine local brandy? I keep it in my private rooms.” Daga turned and proceeded to the side rooms, just off the long passageway that led from front to back of the inn. The Trader followed. He knew already what the innkeeper would say. He reached the door to the private dining room and stepped in. There was a huge circular table of highly polished timber in the centre of the room. Four high backed chairs were drawn up, equally spaced around the table. The room itself was plain, with few other furnishings. A couple of wall hangings depicting long forgotten battles, made of woven cloth. A side table of the same timber as the main table, dark red and polished to a mirror surface. Standing on the side table was a delicately carved ivory statue of a wading bird. The Trader knew quality when he saw it. The innkeeper had good taste for a county man. The Trader wondered how the statue had come into Master Domain’s possession. It was very old, and ivory was a material that few other than kings and queens could afford. None knew the origins of ivory, what there was had survived the great battles of the last age and was highly prized. That it seemed to originate from the distant land of Hua Guo was all that was known of the material. Some thought it no more than bone, but it had a warm smooth feel as though it were a living material still. How it had ended up here the Trader could not even guess at. His eyes came back to the centre of the table.

  Here on a square of brilliant white cloth stood two brandy glasses and a decanter. Glasswork that had been blown and shaped by master craftsmen if the Trader knew his business. Beside the decanter stood a small wooden box lined with dark velvet material. A large gold coin rested in the box. It glinted in the lamplight, reflecting light beams through the dark liquid in the decanter beside it. Daga had found the coin in the ancient ruins across the river. He gestured to a chair, inviting the trader to sit. Both knew this was serious business. The business of trade. If fine brandy from prized glasses was also being offered, well and good.

  "So, Master Innkeeper, you do me much honour. Your finest brandy offered in glasses that would not disgrace the table of a noble. You have fine tastes Master Domain.” The Trader casually waved his right arm in a sweep encompassing the room, ending with the carved statue. There was no mistaking that the Trader was referring to the ivory bird.

  Daga bowed his head slightly and a small smile played about the corners of his mouth.

  “Thank you Trader, you are most generous in your praise. These things are but a few trinkets picked up over the years. Shall you try the brandy?”

  The Trader took up a glass, allowing the innkeeper to splash a small amount of the amber liquid into it. The aroma immediately spread throughout the room. The candle light glowed through the glasses, and the warmth from the log fire in the hearth at the end of the room carried the vapours.

  “Excellent brandy Master Domain. Truly a man of good taste.” Said the Trader. Praise indeed from a Trader. It was not lost on the innkeeper. He almost glowed with satisfaction. It was going well.

  The Trader gestured with the stem of his glass to the gold coin that nestled in its little polished case. Neither man had openly looked at the coin, and neither did now.

  “You have an eye for yellow it seems. Perhaps you would care to exchange some part of your collection for an …. object… of similar colour.” The Trader placed his glass carefully on the small square of white cloth. He had only wet his lips with the brandy so far. He knew well the perils of trading and drinking, and brandy was doubly dangerous. The fumes carried on the warm air currents of the room could dull senses enough as it was.

  Daga lowered his glass and looked at the ceiling beams as though having never seen them before. Trying not to show his excitement at the prospect of actually making the trade, he scratched his chin to try and cover any signs he may be giving away on his all too honest face.

  “Yellow. Yes. A good idea. I had thought that my oldest daughter would look nice in yellow on her wedding day.” said Daga, dispelling any doubts that the yellow silk dress was the object of the trade. There was no doubt that the gold coin was the offered exchange.

  The coin had not been taken out of the cloth lined box in years. There was no need. Everyone in the village knew about it and all had seen it. Even held it. A king’s ransom by weight alone. There were no kings in Xu Gui to ransom though so the coin sat on the shelf, dusted occasionally by the innkeeper’s good lady wife. Until today.

  “Master Domain. Innkeeper,” began the Trader. “As valuable as the fine sheath of silk is, as yellow and bright as it undoubtedly is, I always deal fairly with a man. What you offer is worth far more than I offer in return.”

  If he expected Daga to look disappointed at what could have been a refusal he was in turn disappointed.

  “You are indeed an honourable man, Trader,” said Daga. “But the offer still stands.” In case there was any misunderstanding, Daga continued.

  “The gold talon – or whatever coinage it was – in exchange for the dress of yellow silk. You have judged it of a size for my daughter else you would not be here now I think.” The Trader reached for the coin and picked it up out of its box. It truly was a valuable coin. The weight of it surprised the Trader. It was much thicker than he had realized. The folds of the cloth hiding its true size. It was nearly the size of the palm of his hand and as thick as his thumb. It was worth a fortune by weight alone, and never meant to be carried in purse or pouch. As he held the gold coin in his hand he was reading the script that flowed across its surface. The Trader could read many languages, all Traders could, and as he mentally calculated this objects worth by weight so he also unconsciously took in the meaning of the words. Thumbing the disk over in his palm, he kept reading as he spoke. “Do you say Master Domain, that you require only a clean swap. The dress of yellow for your daughter in exchange for ….” Suddenly the Trader leapt to his feet, dropping the heavy coin as if it had suddenly become red hot. The coin rang like a chime as it fell to the polished table. The Traders chair skittered back a
nd toppled over with a crash. The fine brandy in the glass held in his left hand slopping over and dripping from his fingers as he stared at the coin now spinning to a clattering stop on the table top. His eyes a round as the coin, he bellowed at the innkeeper, fear edging his voice with harsh tones.

  “What is this you have tried to do to me innkeeper? Do you not know what this is? Why in the name of the Light did you not show this to the Wind Reader?” The words tumbled out of his mouth as he backed away from the table. “As my name is Annan Hamar,” he roared. “ I cannot take your gold. Get this to the Wind Reader and the dress is yours. It is yours now. I give it freely. It has been offered in trade for, for, for,” the Trader was actually spluttering, and his voice died to a whisper. “For the Seal of The Creator. I cannot and will not keep it.”

  The Traders voice had run down to a whisper and as he had spoken the name of the Seal of the Creator, the coin as they had first thought it to be had suddenly glowed red hot for an instant and smoke and fire had spurted from its sides as it burnt into the waxed polish of the table top. In an instant it had cooled again. By this time Daga had backed away from the table and from the Trader. Apart from being startled by the Traders sudden leap to his feet, the hint of fear in his voice really alarmed the innkeeper. Traders knew no fear. Traders never gave their names. Traders almost certainly never gave anything away. This Trader had just done all three in the space of moments. On top of this was the still smoking coin, or Seal. Had the Trader called it The Seal of the Creator? Master Domain looked from one to the other in some consternation. The deal was going all wrong. Daga muttered under his breath. “The Seal of the Creator. Really”. His eyes grew wide in alarm as the Seal pulsed with a deep glow at mention of its name. It seemed that the first flash of heat had only been at its first calling after so long. Neither man approached it though. Both jumped when a shriek pierced the air. The innkeeper’s wife rushed into the room through the doorway and scooped up the seal and dropped it into the box in one unstoppable rush.