“Letting others do the work now?”
The words sounded like a jest, but Dax felt concern behind them. With Narsus’s help he finally sat upright. “Fighting a dragon is hard work,” he thought back. Feeling his answer was a bit too casual, he added, “I’m really glad you were there. You did the actual killing.”
“No draig could have gotten to the drakon’s neck if it hadn’t been half dead already.”
“But if you hadn’t gotten to its neck, I would be more than half dead already.”
Kahshect snorted. “They wouldn’t have had the task of burning your body anyway.”
Dax smiled as he looked over the battlefield. There was fighting up along the walls of the city near West Gate. The Tharans who had made it back over the bridge were headed up the road to Drundevil Pass. His smile got broader. Markadamous and the Ugori waited to gnaw at their unformed ranks. Their task was to chase the Tharans back the way they had come, inflicting as much damage as they could. Dax had ordered Markadamous to let at least a few of the invaders return to Thara—but not too many. The more devastating the Tharan losses, the less likely they would be to come back in the near future.
He turned back to Narsus and took another drink of water. “Would you help me up? It goes well for us, but I must see the city.” With help, Dax struggled to his feet. He was in pain, but it did not matter. He and Kahshect were alive and the drakon was dead.
“Commander Daxdendraig! We salute you.”
Dax looked up. Commander Baffen with his color guard was there. Five lancers sat on their horses, their lances cocked across their bodies in a mounted salute. Dax returned the salute. “Well done yourself, Commander.” Tired as he was, Dax managed to smile. “The Tharans scattered like leaves before the lancer’s storm. Three good blows, and they fell apart.”
Baffen laughed with pleasure and jerked his head toward open land outside the city’s walls. “I set the men to hunting geese in the barnyard.” He turned and gestured toward the bridge. “Do you want us to go after the ones on the other side of the gully?”
“I want to see the city secure first,” Dax replied. “Why don’t you pull, say, fifty lancers out of the fight? Give them a rest while the remainder continue the hunt. Once things quiet down, send the fifty to follow the Tharans and prod them along the road back toward the pass and Markadamous.”
“Ah, the Ugori.” Baffen smiled. “I hope they have as good hunting as well.”
Dax nodded. “I promised Markadamous a chance do more than just raiding. There are enough Tharans left to have a good tussle.”
Once he had given the order to an aide, Baffen dismounted and approached Dax. He pointed at Frohliem’s Shield. “The shield has changed.”
Flinching from the pain in his seared arm, Dax managed to turn the shield enough to see the face of it. Before, the shield had been covered with an honest patina of age. Now it gleamed in the sun, reflecting every ray of light. The yellowish-silver color was unchanged, but traceries of silver filigree that had been invisible before showed around the border. “It’s Old Script,” Dax observed.
“Not that I know it,” said Baffen, “but I think you are right. The scholars will want to look at this when you are done.” He stepped closer and quietly said, “Dax, are you all right? You favor your left side, and you are badly burned.”
“Not to mention some broken ribs where the drakon kicked the harpoon into me.”
Baffen nodded. “We will see you to a physician.”
Dax gritted his teeth, but managed to smile. “My thanks, but there will time enough for that once the battle is won.”
#
The fighting outside Frohliem City was over before the second hour was done. Dax and Baffen stayed on the road above the burn where the drakon’s body lay. They took reports, but they were all reports of a Tharan rout. One of Baffen’s aides produced a couple of rude benches, which Dax gratefully used.
Even sitting, he was exhausted by the time the victorious warriors of East Landly gathered around their commanders. Dax was hunched over, leaning heavily on his right elbow pressing on his right leg. Faintly at first, he heard a growing chant.
“Dax. Dax. Dax . . .”
He looked up. A crowd of warriors faced him. They pumped their arms in the air and called his name. His vision blurred with tears, but he managed to get to his feet. His throat choked with emotion. He waved his good arm. When he turned so Frohliem’s Shield faced toward them, they roared in response. Exhausted by the effort, he sat heavily back down on the bench.
“Now it’s time to get you back to the city,” Baffen said gently.
Two wagons had been brought out. Baffen with one of his aides helped Dax to his feet. They started for the nearest wagon. Dax was grateful for the assistance, but he stopped when he noticed several men down in the burn, picking up the drakon’s severed head. He turned, and now his voice snapped with the tone of command. “Leave the head!”
“They mean to take it back to the city with us,” Baffen said beside him. “The people will see the head of their enemy and rejoice.”
“No.” Dax shook his head for emphasis. “The drakon was not the enemy. It was used by the Tharans for evil. We will keep the Great Treaty by giving the dead beast the honor of cleansing fire.”
Baffen looked at him in confusion. “We have to,” Dax stated firmly. “The Great Treaty is in peril because of what the Tharans did. If we honor the dragon, we keep the Tharans firmly in the wrong. Dragonkind must see no weakening in the resolve of the people of East Landly to keep the peace between dragons and humans. We killed the dragon to protect the kingdom. We will take no glory in the deed.”
The commander of the lancers gave a nod of acquiescence. “As you will, sir. We still must get you back to the city. I will deliver you into the care of the physicians before the next hour is out.”
Dax started to say he wanted to find Captain Torrage first, but Kahshect interrupted. “You will go to the doctor with Commander Baffen, or I will carry you there myself. The wagon will be much more comfortable.”
“As you will, Commander. I will go quietly to keep the peace with the local representative of dragonkind.” Truth was, the pain of his injuries and his complete exhaustion was keeping him from thinking clearly. He managed to get back to the wagon without being carried, but the men had to lift him into the wagon itself. He remembered little of the trip back to the city.
Chapter 20
Doctor Maevis Galen observed the results of her work from last night with satisfaction. Commander Daxdendraig still slept. The cloth wrappings on his burns showed only a moderate seepage, with little blood. Last night she had ordered her assistants to cut away what remained of his hair so she could treat the burns on his scalp. Those bandages looked good as well. She glanced at her notes from last night and put her hand on his forehead. After a moment she removed it. No fever. She had not expected any, but there might have been unseen injuries that would have caused symptoms to emerge overnight.
As she took her hand away, the man stirred. It sounded like he muttered a name. His eyes fluttered. She asked, “Commander, are you awake?” He opened his eyes and looked at her, but it was a moment before she saw recognition.
“Is it morning?” he asked. His voice was firm, with no slurring of speech.
“Yes, not long after midmorning,” she replied. “I’m glad you slept as well as you did, since we couldn’t give you anything for pain.” She looked at him and finally saw authority in the man’s eyes. He had remarkable physical presence.
“Dr. Galen, isn’t it?” the commander observed. She nodded. “That’s one of the perils of being dragon-bound.” He sighed. “Our bodies do not respond well to any drug that alters our senses.” He smiled at her for the first time. “You will not impoverish yourself offering to buy drinks for our lot.”
“You sound as if you are feeling better this morning.”
“Much better, thank you,” he said. “May I get up?”
She looked at him
skeptically. “Let’s see how this arm is doing first.” She gently unwrapped the bandages. Blood water had seeped into the cloth, but there was blood from only a few of the deepest burns. More importantly, there was no sign of pus. Puzzled, she asked, “Was this bandage changed this morning?” She looked at his arm more closely. The skin was raw but clean.
The Commander shook his head. “No, just the once in the middle of the night.”
Yesterday she had cut layers of skin away from where it had fused to the backside of the shield. The amount of healing from yesterday’s raw, bloody mess was amazing. Then again, the man was dragon-bound. She had never treated one of their kind before. She prodded a section of pink skin. “Is this tender?”
“There’s some discomfort,” he said with a wince, “but not as much as yesterday.” His sly smile told her he had deliberately used the word discomfort to remind her of what she had told him to expect when they cut away the shield. “My fingers work, and my arm moves. I assume there’s no permanent damage?”
“Your arm appears to be healing quickly.” She poked him in the chest, and this time she got a gasp of pain. The man was human after all. “What about the ribs?”
“They hurt,” he said quietly.
“Since you haven’t coughed up blood since that first time yesterday, the damage to your lungs is probably not serious. The broken ribs will take a while to heal, but I’m worried about other internal injuries.” More gently now, she felt his torso, looking for signs of internal bleeding. He had a number of large hematomas all over his body, but other than the discolorations, she found no heat or signs of swelling. “I want to know immediately if you feel light-headed or short of breath. Blood in your urine too.” She looked at him sternly. “And I mean immediately, not just when you think to mention it.”
The commander heaved a sigh. “Yes, ma’am.” He closed his eyes or a moment, but then he looked up at her again. “Do you have a moment to give me news? I don’t want to keep you from urgent business, but I do want to know about the number of casualties you have seen. How are the people of the city?”
“Since you were sleeping soundly, I saved you for last this morning. I have time.” She pulled a chair over by the bed and sat down. “Our losses were not that large. So far we have treated forty-three injured in the battle.”
“Forty-three?” He thought for a minute. “How many killed?”
“Only two died among the ones they brought to us,” she replied. “The dead were gathered elsewhere. I don’t know exactly how many, but I’ve heard talk of thirty to forty.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Remarkably few.”
“It would have been quite different if you hadn’t killed their dragon.”
The commander looked at her sharply. “I didn’t kill the dragon by myself. My bondmate, Kahshect, shared the task . . . and the blame. Now we must both stand in judgment for our violation of the Great Treaty.”
Galen reached out and put a hand on his good arm to calm him. The subject obviously troubled him. She tried a different tack. “I finally got to your dragon last night after you were asleep.”
“How is he doing? How is his wing?”
“The wing membrane was torn in three places during the conflict. I’ve never treated a dragon before, but I cleaned the wounds and stitched the edges back together as you instructed. I would like to follow the healing process if I could.”
“Thank you for your help,” he said. “Since he won’t be able to fly for a few weeks, he will be around the area. I will encourage him to let you check on him from time to time.” The man half smiled as if he were amused. “However, once he gets bored, you may find your routine examinations are a little exciting.”
She frowned. Treating the large beast had made her very nervous, but she had relied on what the commander had told her about the dragon being intelligent and willing to let her treat him. “Will he get aggressive? Could you help ensure he will not attack?”
The commander laughed. “You mistake what I mean by ‘exciting.’ Kahshect finds humans amusing. It’s hard to explain his sense of fun, but the more embarrassment he creates for you, the funnier he’ll think it is.”
She looked at him skeptically. “You’re warning me about the dragon’s sense of humor?”
“Warning? Not really, but if you take pride in your dignity, giving Kahshect an examination will be difficult for you.”
The man’s dark eyes sparkled with amusement, and she could not help but chuckle. “Pratfalls?”
“At the very least.” He laughed along with her.
Still smiling she said, “There’s not much I could do to discomfort the dragon in return, is there?”
He smiled. “It’s not like you could hurt him by stepping on his toe, and since you can’t hear what he’s thinking unless I tell you, you can’t respond to his jibes. No, probably the best way to make him stop is to treat him like you might a five-year-old who plays tricks—amused tolerance with a comment or two about lack of taste.”
Getting him to talk about his dragon was evidently a good way to lighten Commander Daxdendraig’s mood. She filed that away for reference. “Now, sir, I think it is time to get a little food in you. Do you feel up to any visitors? As the hero of the day, there is a line of people who would like to see you.”
“Don’t let them make too big a deal out of this. Kahshect and I were the only ones who could have stopped the Tharans’ dragon. We just did what we had to do.”
“Which is why everyone has proclaimed you the savior of the city.”
The commander sighed and made a face. “There are a few people I need to see.”
“I’ll have Marell make a list, but only after she makes you presentable.”
“Is it going to be a long day?” he asked.
“Only if you want it to be,” she said. “I can tell everyone you need more rest.”
“No, doctor. I was asking about you. Will you have a long day?”
She smiled. “Yes, it will be another very long day. However, now that the battle is over, it will be considerably less frantic. Thank you for asking.” She turned to go. “I’ll check in on you later this evening. Please don’t overdo today.”
Chapter 21
The day after the drakon died was a horrible day for Dax. Every part of his body hurt, even parts he did not know could ache, ached. He wanted to be up and around. There was a long list of tasks that needed done, but he felt terrible—especially when he tried to get up. He spent the day in the room he had been given in the palace. Besides Commander Baffen and Captain Achelis, he had only seen the queen.
Queen Layna arrived in the afternoon, waking Dax from a nap. He had nodded off while trying to read reports. He was dismayed to have fallen asleep again and even more dismayed when he awakened to see the queen before him. “Teena. Ah, Your Majesty. My apologies.” He struggled to stand, but he was unable to push at the correct angle with his good arm from where he sat.
“No, no.” She came forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you think of getting up.” Dax sank back to the luxurious couch that had already seduced him into sleep three times that day. She stepped back and smiled. “I should be bowing and curtseying to you after what you did for East Landly.” She looked thoughtful. “In fact, I shall.” With that, the queen made a formal court curtsey and bowed her head deeply at the finish. “Commander Gard Daxdendraig, on behalf of the people of East Landly, I thank you profoundly for your service yesterday. We will make it official at a ceremony later, but I wanted to say it today.”
Dax was embarrassed by her words. “Thank you, Your Majesty, but the kingdom owes that distinction to the dragon Kahshect as well.”
“He shall be honored too.” She relaxed after the formality and sat down beside him on the couch. She carefully took the hand on his uninjured arm. “How are you feeling, Dax?”
“Like I was beaten on by experts . . .” He sighed. “Then cooked.”
“I’m so glad you are alive.”
For a moment he was tempted to say something flip, but he saw the earnestness in her eyes. “Thank you, Teena.” Uncomfortable with the flattering attention, he asked, “How did the Queen’s Legion perform?”
She settled against the back of the couch and looked at him. “We were never fully tested.” She sounded disappointed. “I know that’s a good thing, but . . .”
“You feel your time was wasted?”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “Wasted? Never. I loved every woman who worked and trained with me. I just hope they got as much from the experience as I did.”
Dax smiled with real pleasure. “Teena, that’s the way I’ve felt about every command I’ve had. I’m sure the members of the Queen’s Legion return your love.” The queen seemed not to know what to say, so Dax asked, “What are the people of the city doing?”
She sighed. “Most are trying to go about their usual business. Some wanted to declare a day of celebration of our triumph over the Tharans.” The queen looked down for a time. When she looked up, her eyes were moist. “Except we have much to mourn as well.”
Dax thought for a moment. “Do you think a small celebration now may make the mourning more bearable?”
Her eyes were still distant. “Perhaps.”
His ribs started complaining about the way he was sitting. He shifted position, and a dart of pain from his ribs made him gasp.
“You’re hurting.” She squeezed his hand gently. “And I’m making you sit up and listen to me. Lie down and rest. I won’t take up any more of your time today. I just wanted to tell you how pleased I am I trusted you to save our city and our kingdom.”
Dax enjoyed the queen’s company, but she was right. He was already tired and needed to rest. “Thank you for saying that, Teena.”
She stood up to go. Dax noticed her eyes still looked misty. “I would like to give you a big hug, but I’m afraid I would just hurt you.” She gently put her hand on his head. “Thank you, Dax.” It sounded like a benediction.
King's Dragon: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 2 Page 28
