Dragons and Destiny

by Candy Rae

  Hansel looked unconvinced.

  “Would you like my Taraya to stay here with you?” Niaill offered at Taraya’s urging, indeed at her insistence. “Nothing can get past her.”

  The strain drained from Hansel’s face and was replaced by a subdued eagerness.

  The other boys too looked relieved.

  “I’ll call her over,” said Niaill.

  “That would be good sor,” Franz answered for them all, “I cin get to sleep, be ready for what’s needin’ tomorrer. We kept watch you ken sor, couple ‘o the men … We was always taught we cin trust the Vada.”

  Niaill understood.

  : Taraya? :

  : Coming :

  She loomed out of the gloom. Niaill noticed Hansel staring at her in admiration.

  Niaill stood up. “Taraya will stay and I have to go. If for some reason Taraya has to leave you for a while she’ll make sure another Lind takes her place.” He beckoned Franz over.

  “Tomorrow,” he informed him, I’m going to have to ask you to perform an unpleasant task. I’m going to ask you to identify the men, to put names to faces if you can.”

  “The dead ones too?” asked Franz with a gulp.

  “I’m afraid so. I need to know that we’ve got them all or if we need to go hunting. Think you can do that for me? I don’t want to ask the younger ones, they’ve been through enough already. So’ve you for that matter.”

  “I cin dae it,” said Franz in a sturdy voice.

  “Good lad,” said Niaill, patting him on the shoulder.

  The First Ryzck and additions set out for Douglastown three days later, the bandits who had survived strung over the horse’s backs. They had found over twenty of the beasts in a corral in an offshoot from the valley.

  Franz rode one of these horses. The other boys were riding pillion behind vadeln. Niaill had Hansel behind him, mindful of what Franz had told him the previous day.

  “Hansel sor,” Franz had said. “He’s that desperate tae ride a Lind sor. He’s been talkin’ ‘bout nothing else since ye came and before then too, back hame. Crazy ‘bout the Lind, allas was. Never did want tae mine. Ye couldn’a, ye couldn’a take him with ye when ye go back tae Vada?”

  “I’ll see what can be done,” said Niaill in a guarded voice, not wanting to promise anything he couldn’t deliver. “What age is Hansel?”

  “Don’t rightly know, a year or so younger’n me.”

  “About twelve then, looks younger. Does he have any family?”

  “He disn’a I’m sure sor, all his family were at Rocksprings. He’s on his own now.”

  : Not for long : said Taraya : if I’m any judge :

  Niaill started. Taraya was famous for knowing which human youngsters were likely to bond with one of her kind.

  : Ok , I’ll bring him with us even if it means I have to apply for legal guardianship :

  : Right decision :

  * * * * *

  Elliot

  The state visits had been, thought Elliot, as he stared morosely out of the rain-streaked window, as mind-numbingly boring as he had expected. Elliot had been introduced to a raft of island nobility and gentry and if it hadn’t been for the thought of adventures ahead might have rebelled days ago. The irreverent and witty comments of James Cocteau and to a lesser extent those of Derek Merriman (just as witty but seldom irreverent), had helped.

  Elliot sighed. He didn’t think he wanted to be a prince any more.

  “There’s a limit to how many interesting yet diplomatic things I can talk about,” he complained to James.

  James made sympathetic noises, but there was little he could do to help. It was Prince Elliot the nobles and gentlefolk came to see.

  “Only three days to go,” he said, trying to get Elliot to look on the bright side.

  Elliot’s face brightened then sank once more into despondency. “And the evenings. Tonight will be the worst of the lot.”

  James was hard put not to agree with his friend. A huge banquet was being held that evening followed by a ball, one to which anyone who was anyone had been invited. Tonight rich merchants, their wives and landholders of a certain status would be amongst the throng of people eager to talk to him and more importantly, to be seen talking to him.

  Elliot took a sip of watered wine and continued with his morose woolgathering. He looked out of the window. The shutters were half-closed, a storm was imminent and he was determined to look on the black side.

  Earl Ronald had informed him that morning that a storm from the east was on its way and Elliot had made the unpleasing discovery that such storms often lasted a tenday or more so James’s comment that there were only three days to go had only reminded him that he might be here much longer.

  “We could be here for ages yet,” he complained, “and I’m bored to the teeth. I wish the Earl would include me in these meeting he has with Baron Ross.”

  “Baron Ross does appear to be in his company a lot,” admitted Derek who was sitting in a corner reading a book of poetry. “I say,” he observed, “some of these poems are rather good.”

  “Who is the author?” asked Elliot but without much interest.

  “Tara Sullivan,” answered Derek.

  “The Argyllian poet?” queried Elliot. “My tutors didn’t think much of her.”

  “She came from Vadath,” corrected Derek. “She was the same woman who wrote Tales of Rybak.”

  “Really?” Elliot had enjoyed these.

  “The very one, or two if you want to be pedantic about it. The authors in this volume are down as Tara Sullivan and her Lind Kolyei.”

  That got Elliot’s interest. Elliot, like many other young Murdochians, was fascinated by stories about the wonderful Lind of Vadath.

  “A Lind,” he breathed. Elliot wanted very much to meet a Lind. He had only once seen a Larg and that far in the distance. “I’m so looking forward to getting to Argyll.”

  “Hold on to that thought during the days ahead,” advised Derek, “it might make the waiting that bit easier.”

  “What about reading us one of the poems?” suggested Elliot, “and if you would lend me the book when you’re finished with it Derek?”

  The older lad chuckled. “If you like, this poem is rather interesting. It says in the footnote that Tara Sullivan wrote it when she was only thirteen. It’s about the Lind, might help you to get an insight as to what they’re like.”

  “Read it to me,” commanded Elliot.

  Derek sat up in his chair and began to read. He had a well-modulated voice and the light poem had a cadence to it that suited his style. Elliot listened enthralled.

  “‘Twelve children set out for the west that day,

  Confused, bemused, yet happy and gay...

  ...But we Children of Wolves will live on and shout,

  With resounding voice, all eight will chant out.

  We’ll fight to live with thee and thine,

  Free in the land which now is mine.

  Be still, my rtathen.’”

  Derek’s voice stilled.

  “Do you think it’s true?” asked Elliot of Derek.

  “Don’t see why not, subject to poetic licence of course.”

  “What’s true?” asked a voice from the door.

  Baron Philip Ross walked over to where James and Elliot were sitting. “Sorry I’ve been so long but Earl Ronald had a great many questions about a great many things.”

  “What sort of things?” asked Elliot, poem forgotten for the moment. “I wish I’d been invited. A few juicy affairs of state would help dissipate the boredom.”

  “You can come along tomorrow if you like,” was Philip’s instant response, “I’d be glad of the company. Today we were talking about the problems of extracting good-grade ore for metal-working. Tomorrow we are to discuss the technicalities of hydro-electricity and if it would be possible to introduce it to certain areas.”

  “Hydro what?” asked Elliot.

  “I’ll send some background information to you,” p
romised Philip with twinkles in his eyes, “and you can lead off the meeting tomorrow.”

  “Em … er…” Elliot hadn’t considered that he might actually have to do some work in preparation for such meetings.

  Philip Ross laughed, bowed to Elliot and left.

  “His sense of humour is certainly on the black and quirky side,” James noted. “At least it’ll cure you of some of the boredom you were complaining about.”

  Elliot gave James a dirty look. “I’d rather go for a ride. Let’s go James, now, so when the notes Philip said he’d send round arrive I won’t be here.”

  “In that wind and rain? I’d rather be excused Elliot,” answered James. “Fact is, I will be excused. I vote you read the thing, it might be interesting, you never know.”

  “And reading it will mean that tomorrow at the meeting you won’t appear a complete ignoramus in front of Earl Ronald,” added Derek from the corner. “He’s got the reputation of being an intellectual, very clever and well read too.”

  Elliot most certainly did not want to appear like a stupid young boy in front of the Earl. He bowed to the inevitable and agreed to read Philip’s notes.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 5

  AL607 - Fourth Month of Summer (Sanrhed)

  Hilla

  Part of officer training with the Garda was instruction in how to behave at social gatherings. Not all those in training came from wealthy families. Some, like Hilla, were tradesmen’s sons and daughters.

  Accordingly, at set points during training, dances and dinners were arranged to which young ladies and young gentlemen of a certain social standing in society were invited. These were very popular in the Settlement area and not a few young Juvenis and Senis ended up marrying someone they had met at one of these occasions. The Trainees were however, prohibited from actually tying the knot during their two years of training but once they were gazetted Coronet that was different.

  Some families (especially ones with a large number of daughters) went so far as to take a house in the area in the hopes of catching one of the young bachelor officers or trainee officers. Others took rooms in one of the many inns and hotels in the town.

  For the Juvenis Staticum their first such occasion was scheduled for the first day of the month of Sanrhed. The order had been posted on the notice board a tenday before.

  Hilla wasn’t thrilled at the prospect. The Second Staticum Trainees had told their juniors what to expect.

  Classes had been held teaching, as Dolvin called it, “all of us ignoramuses how to behave decently and in good order and to observe all niceties of polite society.” Hilla thought Dolvin had described it to a tee.

  Jen was looking forward to the evening but Jen came from an old military family with land, lots of land in mid-central Argyll. The Durands were one of what were recognised as the ‘old’ families, their family name dated back hundreds of years and did not change from generation to generation like Hilla’s did. Hilla’s surname was Talansdochter, meaning, quite literally ‘Daughter of Talan’. Unlike Jen, Hilla couldn’t trace her family back beyond three generations.

  Jen was used to banquets and dances.

  “These evenings are great fun,” she insisted.

  “I’m terrified,” Hilla confessed.

  This evening was not to encompass a formal dinner; a buffet had been prepared and there would be dancing throughout the evening. The Trainees were expected to make polite and witty conversation with their guests, their seniors and each other.

  The four female Juvenis Trainees helped each other into their dress uniforms for the first time. Male and female jackets followed the same basic design. They were dark blue and were tailored to fit. The uniform looked good on the tall and lanky Jen and the slim Hilla but not so good on the other two who had more curvaceous figures. Under the jacket the four wore a long straight matching skirt that came to their ankles and was worn with plain black low-heeled shoes. First Staticum Trainee uniforms had no decoration on them whatsoever, even the buttons were cloth covered in matching blue (officers wore shiny brass and very rich officers were wore of gold). Male Trainees wore skin-tight birches and knee-length boots. Second Staticum Trainee uniforms had a single white strip sewn on to their collars to distinguish them from their juniors.

  “Ready?” asked Jen and led the way to the Mess from which Hilla could hear strains of music, the band of the Heavy Cavalry.

  “Stay by me,” Jen advised.

  “This is so nervous-making,” said Hilla as they approached the door. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. We get marked on this.”

  “Just be yourself,” advised Jen who couldn’t wait to divest herself of her cape and enter the fray. She loved to dance, the quickstep, the foxtrot, the waltz, even the military two-step.

  Hilla on the other hand was in a state of trepidation concerning the dancing. The village dances at Dunetown didn’t dance those types of dances, preferring the country ones like ‘Mhairi’s Wedding’ and ‘The Squire’s Son’.

  Many trainees would consider such occasions as being very ‘infra dig’ but Hilla had enjoyed them.

  She handed over her long uniform cape to the mess-man at the door and entered the long room.

  Hilla wrote about the evening to her sister Zilla some says later:

  ‘Dearest Zilla,

  Thanks for your lovely long letter…

  … Zilla, you’d have loved it, the colours, the music, the dancing. And the colours. The dark blue of the infantry, the dark green of the cavalry, the blue of the navy, the white-jacketed mess-men and women, the ladies in their colours and even two maroon uniformed Vada. I felt a bit awkward at first. Most of the females were wearing ball-gowns (Jen says she’s got some like them at home) and as there are only four of us girls in the Juvenis Staticum and three in the Senis Staticum and we all felt a bit at a disadvantage trying to compete with their splendour.

  However, I needn’t have worried. Numbers were fairly even, I suppose the invites were worked out and we had plenty of partners. We were given a dance card and potential partners had to write their name in the dance they wanted.

  As you know my dear sister, I’ve never been much of a dancer though I do enjoy it. Remember the mess I made at the village bop last winter and how angry the rest of the set were? Well, I’ve managed to master the dances called the waltz and the quickstep (it’s name tells you all), enough anyway not to fall over my own feet and trip everyone up. The foxtrot is harder which is strange because although the steps are almost the same as the quickstep it is much slower.

  My nemesis is a fiendish dance called ‘The Military Two Step’. I just can’t manage it and was in mortal dread of someone booking me for it. Of course the other Trainees know how hopeless I am at it and would have left such a dance blank on the card but the outsiders didn’t know and soon I found my dance card filled almost full.

  To my surprise, Leftenant Hallam (remember, I’ve told you about him before) put his name down for the first of the two steps and he must have seen the horror on my face.

  ‘I’m not much good at it either,’ he confided which made me feel much better. ‘It’s the supper dance,’ he added and to my complete mystification (Jen had forgotten to explain that), ‘and we can sit the dance out it that’s what you would prefer.’ I agreed with relief. I had noted that some of the young girls who had been invited were showing a marked preference for the unmarried officers rather than the trainees and I had seen Leftenant Hallam running the gauntlet of the more determined ones.

  Did I say that when we entered the room I had dragged Jen over to a corner and made her stand there and watch for a full quarter bell until I plucked up the courage?

  I have to admit that the dancing went better than I had expected and that although I didn’t dance all the pre-supper ones I did manage not to disgrace myself. Father would have been proud of me.

  Leftenant Hallam appeared at my side as the band began the introduction bars to the measure (that’s what
we call the military dances) and guided me though it (in fact I enjoyed it) then took my arm to lead me in to supper and then he took my dance card and filled in every vacant space with his name. We didn’t dance every dance, sometimes we ‘sat out’ and talked and he told me a bit about himself.

  He originates from the islands and has two brothers younger than him. Liam is a doctor. He is very clever and won a scholarship to the University. Ansell, the youngest is in the Navy, serving on one of the frigates who patrol in the Great Eastern Sea and has seen action against pirates. He didn’t say anything about his parents, I presume they are dead; neither did he talk about his home island. When I asked why he and his brothers left and came to Argyll, he evaded the question, quite neatly too.

  Anyway, me and Robain Hallam have ‘become an item’. I am the butt of many jokes amongst the other trainees who seem to think our burgeoning love affair is rather funny.

  Unfortunately he’s to be posted soon, he has no idea where yet but he will be gazetted captain next month. We’re hoping his posting will be to somewhere not too distant, the mainland here would be good but wherever it is I have a feeling he won’t forget about me.

  He keeps insisting that absence makes the heart grow fonder, I’m not so sure but I’m hoping because I do like him more than a lot if I’m honest with myself. It’s strange; I’ve only ever wanted to be a soldier and never thought I’d meet anyone I might perhaps like to marry. Fate plays strange games.

  So what is happening at the Inn? Is Mother feeling better or is that cough still troubling her? Hs father got over Rilla’s desertion? How is Zak? And you, how are you? Any young man on the horizon? Hurry up and reply sis; we don’t get leave for ages yet.

  Oh, I got a note from Rilla the other day. I was beginning to think she had forgotten all about me. She told me a bit about what she is doing and what the training is like. I think a lot of it is much the same as ours though the Academie here is far more formal but I suppose I kinda expected that. The Vada’s command structure (we’ve studied it) is different, probably because of the Lind.