by Nathan Roden
Tears swam in Boone’s eyes. He cursed himself for his weakness.
The little girl pushed herself up.
“Mommy,” she said.
“I’m hungry.”
The townspeople cheered. They clapped one another on the back, ignoring the fact that they had the swords and arrows of soldiers from the north pointed at them.
The people circled around the child—the child who had looked to be on the brink of death only moments before.
“She’s hungry! I have bread—and broth!” a woman cried out. “I will be right back!”
The child looked around. Her eyes met Simon’s.
The little girl smiled and pointed.
“Good puppy.”
Althea fell forward, weeping with joy.
Another young man pushed his way to stand in front of Boone.
“My son is ill, too! He’s been in bed for two days!”
“My wife…my wife is sick. You must help her!”
Six other people spoke up, claiming ill family members and friends.
“We brought this medicine here to help you,” Boone said. “As a show of good faith. We are willing to administer it to any who need it.”
The people pressed forward.
“Stop!” Simon roared.
He raised his head and blew a blast of harmless fire.
The people were silent.
“We will give the medicine freely. But make no mistake.”
“WE are not your healers! And we are not your saviors. This is not a matter of riches and good intent. Even if we could buy an entire ship full of medicine and bring it to Islemar, the bounty would not be allowed to cross the border. These people before you have risked their lives to come here; to solicit your help and your loyalty. Ultimately, you must choose to join us in the quest to remove those in power in Morgenwraithe—or your people will continue to suffer. Your numbers will fall until you have no strength to resist an invasion.”
“What chance do we have against the king’s army?” one man asked.
“A better chance than you have now!” Simon growled. “Do you not see what is coming? The Morgenwraithe kings have been cheating you for years. They become stronger while your people weaken.”
“But you want us to swear loyalty to yet another Morgenwraithe king!” another man said. “Why is one son of Bailin different from another? Except that this one is cursed!”
“When victory is ours, the curse will no longer exist,” Nicolas Lamont said.
“How do we know that to be true?” the man asked.
“It does not matter if it is true,” Simon said. “If we are victorious and the curse remains, then Lord Lamont takes the throne.”
“Is that true?” the man asked Lamont.
“Yes. I am the kingdom’s Viceroy. But I have every confidence that Simon Morgenwraithe will sit the throne. As a man.”
“Then King Lucien will have to die. Do you plan to kill him? Your own flesh and blood?”
Every eye watched Simon.
“It will never come to that. Sterling will not let him live.”
One of the men shook his head. He addressed his neighbors.
“How do we place our confidence in such a family? Can you not see that the blood of this family is poisoned? Why should we believe that this dragon-king is not as mad as his ancestors?”
The people whispered among themselves.
“I have been loyal to three Morgenwraithe kings,” Lamont said. “This does not mean that I have supported their methods or their dealings. Many innocent people have died from the madness that has come from that throne.”
“The time has come that I can ignore my responsibility no longer!”
Lamont pointed at Simon.
“This…prince was born into royalty, and the luxury that it provided. He had the best of everything, including the promise that he would rule the kingdom one day. But this lasted only until his sixth name day. He was cursed and forced to live in exile. He was forced to survive on his own—as a mere child! “
“He has known more hardship than all of us combined, and yet his heart remains true. He stays in this body that we may benefit from his strength.”
“Your own daughter is the queen, Lamont! Are you willing to sacrifice her on the altar of your revolution?”
Lamont bit his lip.
“I am asking you to risk yourselves and your families, in the name of a sure and better future. My daughter lives in misery—misery that I was foolish enough to be a party to. I live with that reality every moment of my life.”
“I hope and pray that I can rescue her from the evils of Morgenwraithe. She lives in more peril than us all.”
Fifty
Lamont and his men relaxed around their campfire. One soldier took down the freshly roasted pig. The man carved a slice and handed it to Nicolas Lamont, who in turn passed it to Ben. Ben fed bites to his daughter, between hugs and kisses.
Boone and Helena walked up. They slumped to the ground, exhausted.
“Is all the medicine gone?” Lamont asked.
Boone held up his pouch.
“We have less than a tenth of it. I thought it would be wise to save a little—just in case.”
Minutes later, six men approached them.
“Lord Lamont. I am Rolf Roball.”
“Aye,” Lamont said. “The mayor, I presume.”
“Such as it is. I have never wanted to rule over anyone. I only want to live in peace.”
“An admirable approach, Mayor.”
Roball held up a sack.
“I traveled for three days to buy this; a concoction of herbs, sold at a tall price by a shaman priest. Both of my children were sick. I had to do something.”
Roball stepped toward the fire and emptied the contents of the sack into it.
“I came home, and my sobbing wife met me at the door. Crying tears of joy, mind you. Their fevers—”
Roball stopped speaking when his voice cracked.
“Their fevers are gone. They will soon be back on their feet; thanks to your medicine. And your generosity.”
“We are glad to help, Lord Roball,” Lamont said. “But we cannot be—”
Roball raised his hands.
“We cannot expect you to be couriers between the seaport and the South. I know this.”
Roball looked up and pointed.
“I have seen your friend. He flew over my head when I was only miles from home. I almost soiled my trousers.”
“He is not just our friend. He is the rightful king of the realm.”
“I have heard the short version of the story.”
“And what are your thoughts?”
“We will meet you in Drakal,” Roball said. “We will bring every able-bodied man we can find to join with you and Sir Edmund.”
“Sir Edmund?” Lamont asked. “A Knight?”
Roball laughed.
“I am not surprised that this uncomfortable fact is not taught in the north! Sir Edmund Braun—First Knight under the reign of Vehaillion the Second.”
Lamont could hardly speak.
“But…how?”
“Not every man was without conscience when it came to the senseless killings carried out by the throne. Sir Edmund could find no others willing to stand with him against the tyrants. And so, he found sanctuary in the south. When he landed at Drakal he was wounded and near death.”
“He made that perilous journey while wounded?” Lamont asked. “That would seem to be…impossible. This man is indeed the stuff of legend.”
“Well, it’s not as if he walked across the border.”
“I don’t understand,” Lamont said.
Roball smiled and pointed his finger toward the sky. He flattened his palm and moved his hand across his body.
“He arrived—on the back of a dragon.”
“That is an incredible story,” Lamont exclaimed. “Does he still—?”
Roball shook his head.
“He does not speak of the old d
ays. Not at all. And I suggest that you do not pry into his private matters. Sir Edmund is a source of peace and strength to many. It would not do to upset that.”
“But, we seek to return a man-turned-dragon to power in Morgenwraithe! If anyone might understand this it would be—!”
“Do not let your thoughts carry you away, Lord Lamont,” Roball said. “So much has changed since Sir Edmund arrived. You were not yet born when he came to us! Braun is the oldest man in the south, by far. He has ruled in Drakal for as long as any can remember. He also remembers how the south used to be. Safe. And secure. Magic was not feared, and for the most part, neither were the dragons. There is a deep, deep sadness in his eyes. It is said that he learned some magic himself before the wizards and sorcerers began to disappear.”
“When the last of the dragons turned against us, Sir Edmund locked himself away for days at a time. He would not see or speak to anyone.”
“But, that is enough talk about the past,” Roball said. “I know that Sir Edmund had pledged his support to Bodrick Fuller. His village and ours mourned the day that we learned of…,well. I understand that Fuller’s daughter travels with you. Is this the girl?”
Helena stood and bowed her head.
“Bodrick Fuller was my father, My Lord.”
“Aye, he was a splendid gentleman. His brothers, as well. They shared with me the best wine I have ever tasted. I have known for a long time that the kings of the north purposely ignore our treaties and lie in wait while we grow weaker. We are a simple people, with few riches or possessions to plunder.”
“The spirit behind the throne is not merely one of lust and greed,” Lamont said. “They seek power above all else. And they fear revolution. Men like Sterling see enemies where there are none. There are no safe havens when men like this are in power.”
A dark shadow passed overhead.
The dragon landed at Lamont’s side.
“Rolf Roball, I would like to introduce Simon Morgenwraithe; the first-born son of King Bailin and rightful heir to the Morgenwraithe throne.”
Simon dipped his head.
“It is my pleasure, Lord Roball.”
Roball’s jaw moved before he was able to speak.
“Great Vehaillion’s ghost! I mean, It is one thing to hear of your existence, and yet another to see you with my own eyes.”
“I understand, Lord—”
Roball began to kneel.
“No, please,” Simon said. “This is not the time for the pomp and rituals of royalty. We are the ones who come here on bended knee—seeking your help. I have not served the people as king for a single day. Until I do, I am only one more willing soldier in the fight for a better life—for all of us.”
“A soldier with the power of dozens of men—perhaps more!” Roball said. “You and your people have come to us in good faith—and your gifts have brought hope and healing to our village.”
“There is no need for your people to suffer and die—not when medicines exist to combat the fever. Not when these elixirs arrive at our shores from across the sea. We will fight for the rights of all men. For death to take your little ones… is unforgivable.”
“Spoken like a true king,” Roball said.
“We will gather every man possible and meet you in Drakal.”
Fifty-one
Sterling and Raynard rose early and took their horses from the stable. They rode to meet up with Dathien and the men who carried the supplies for the last of the beacon towers.
Dathien and the men were within minutes of a cave location when Sterling and Raynard arrived.
“Dathien,” Sterling said. “If I may have a word.”
“Be quick about it,” Dathien said. “The dragon is in hiding. I have not felt his presence for days.”
“He fears you and your magic,” Sterling said. “Surely, this is nothing new for you.”
Dathien grunted. He fingered the teeth of his necklace.
“I have hunted many a beast—but they were mindless creatures motivated only by pure hate. This dragon of yours has the mind of a man. No, the mind of a wizard!”
“And your fascination with ‘my dragon’—I presume this is why you are leaving a trail of dead bodies throughout the kingdom?” Sterling asked.
“I do not have the luxury of being patient with those who are sympathetic toward this monster!”
“And I did not hire you to leave the bodies of our people strewn from the east to the west!” Sterling snapped.
Dathien whipped around and stared down at Sterling.
“You did not question my methods when you sought me out. And yet, you think you may question them now!”
“You—get to return home with your reward,” Sterling said. “The rest of us must remain and deal with the damage you have caused.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” Dathien laughed. “Rid the kingdom of a dragon—but not just any dragon! No! A dragon that is still thought by many to be their rightful King! But please, Sir. Kill this dragon—this highly intelligent dragon—but do it peacefully! Do it in a tidy fashion!”
“I will pay your price,” Sterling said. “In full. But I consider our arrangement to have been a mistake.”
“Yes,” Dathien seethed. “You will pay me in full.”
“But I will not leave this land until the body of this dragon is separated from its head—and his teeth hang around my neck!”
“I want you on the next ship that leaves Islemar.”
The voice came from behind them.
Lucien. Oliver. And seven other members of the King’s Guard.
“Oh?” Dathien feigned reverence.
“Orders from the boy-king, Lord Sterling? Should I quake in fear? Or has he merely given the slip to his nursemaid? Tell me if this is the voice of authority in Morgenwraithe—who dares to give me orders!”
“I will take care of this, Lucien,” Sterling spat.
“These beacons are useless—for now,” Dathien said. He raised his head and sniffed the air.
“The dragon has disappeared from this land. But I do sense…another.”
“Another what?” Sterling asked. “Another dragon?”
“No,” Dathien said. His eyes looked far away.
“Not a dragon. But one who possesses great power, indeed. The rarest kind of magic—magic that is evident from the womb…”
“I have discovered all sorcerers and witches in this land—” Sterling said.
“You are mistaken,” Dathien said.
“Then tell me—where is this magic man—or woman?” Sterling asked.
Dathien breathed in again. He closed his eyes.
“Or child.”
“You cannot be serious,” Sterling sneered. “A wizard child?”
“A child…”
Oliver shifted in his saddle.
Oh, no… he thought.
Dathien opened his eyes. He turned and looked at Oliver. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.
Dathien inhaled deeply.
“He seeks sanctuary in the land of salt and sea—”
“Islemar.”
Fifty-two
Lucien could not sleep. He threw off his blankets and dressed. He crept away from the castle and made his way to the stables.
He pulled open the door and was nearly run over. A horse whinnied and reared. Its rider slipped backward and landed hard on his backside.
Lucien drew his sword.
“Who goes there?” Lucien asked.
“It is only me, Your Grace.”
“Oliver.”
“What are you doing here this time of morning?”
Lucien held out his hand. Oliver took it. The king pulled his squire to his feet.
“Well?” Lucien said.
Oliver looked down. His shoulders drooped in the posture of defeat.
“It is the queen, Your Grace.”
“The queen? What about the queen?”
“I believe…I believe she is in danger.”
“Danger?” Lucien said.
“Danger from what?”
“It is nothing I can explain, Your Gra—”
“Stop lying to me!”
Lucien shoved Oliver’s shoulders.
“Please, your Grace. I only wish to—”
Lucien grabbed Oliver by the hair. He pulled Oliver close until he could feel his breath.
“You will tell me…what you know...or I will have your head!”
Oliver’s knees grew weak. His shoulders quaked, and his body went slack.
Lucien slapped him.
“You stand up and talk to me like a man! I am your king, and I asked you a question!”
Oliver wiped his eyes and sniffed. He controlled his breathing.
“Very well, my King. My fate was sealed on the day of the dragon’s escape. I will hide no longer.”
“What are you saying?” Lucien said.
“The wizard—the giant brought here from the bowels of hell—he will go to Islemar.”
“I heard what he said,” Lucien said. “I was there, remember? He believes there is another wizard hiding there. Why should he care unless he thought this other sorcerer was helping the dragon?”
Oliver shook his head.
“He is not a sorcerer. And he is not helping any dragon.”
“He is only a boy. A blind boy.”
“How do you know this?” Lucien asked.
“I have seen him, your Grace.”
“Well, this boy is as good as dead,” Lucien said. “If Dathien can sense his presence from this far away, there is nowhere for him to hide.”
“That is why I must go, your Grace. I have to warn the queen.”
“Warn the queen? About what?”
Oliver’s eyes met Lucien’s.
“The boy, and his sister and brother—they are under the protection of Castle Islemar.”
“What?” Lucien exploded.
“Sh! Please, your Grace! If I do not go before the giant does—then all is lost!”
