King's Dragon: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 2

by William Culbertson

  Dax looked at her skeptically. “You will prevent this?”

  “Of course I can’t stop you if you insist on being stupid.”

  “I understand you’re concerned,” he said, “but I really must lead my men to confront the force that’s coming from West Landly.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard all about that, and I know you are an inspiration to one and all.” The way she said it, she did not sound personally inspired. “Did you stop to consider how inspirational it would be to fall down dead in front of your troops?”

  He raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Dead?”

  She nodded emphatically. “Dead. You had internal injuries after fighting the dragon. Yes, you are healing nicely, but if you ride out on horseback, you could start bleeding again inside.”

  “You didn’t mention I was bleeding internally,” Dax said with more than a hint of accusation.

  “Of course I didn’t. Your arm, your chest, and other pieces were seriously damaged, and you weren’t going anywhere at the time. I could see your internal bleeding had stabilized, so I worked to put the rest of you back together.”

  She stepped to the couch where Dax was sitting and jerked up his tunic and undershirt. “This hematoma . . .” She stopped at his puzzled look. “This bruise on the left side of your abdomen was big and ugly, but it wasn’t getting any worse.” Looking down at his exposed flesh, she prodded the dark splotch and said absently to herself. “Typical healing discoloration with no advance.

  “Sitting around while you heal is good,” she continued firmly. “If you go joggling off on a horse, the shaking could start you bleeding again. I don’t know how much internal damage you have, so there’s no way to tell what state you are in now. Ride out today, and you might be fine. Or you could ride up to the army that is coming and fall down dead at their feet.”

  “I will sit on you if the doctor tells me to.”

  Dax looked up, startled by Kahshect’s interruption. He looked back at Dr. Galen, who was puzzled at his obvious distraction. He smiled at her weakly. “Kahshect has been listening. It seems you have persuaded him. He says he will sit on me if you tell him to.”

  She looked confused for a moment. “So he can listen in? Well, tell him I said no sitting on you in the condition you’re in, but anything short of that will have my approval.” She gave a satisfied snort and folded her arms across her chest.

  Since the dragon’s interruption had slowed her down, Dax sat and thought before he replied. “How likely am I to be seriously hurt by riding?”

  The doctor sighed and finally sat down in the chair he had offered when she first stormed into his office. “I don’t know. I can’t tell what’s happening inside you. I’ve never treated anyone who had been burned and beaten by a dragon before, nor have I treated any of the dragon-bound.” When Dax continued to stare at her, she looked uncomfortable. “All right, I would guess it would be coin toss that you’ll have serious problems. Even if nothing irreversible happens, I’m almost certain you won’t be in any condition to fight after several days in the saddle.”

  The honesty of her assessment made an impression. Dax thought for a time. “What about a wagon or something?”

  She considered that a moment, but waved the idea away. “A wagon is still going to be bouncing your internal organs up and down, maybe even worse than a horse. A wagon doesn’t have the sense to step over a rut like a horse.”

  “A dragon with only one wing won’t be able to fly you either, I’m afraid.”

  Dax chuckled and replied out loud for the doctor’s benefit. “Kahshect, if you can’t fly me with your injured wing, would you jounce me as much as a horse if I rode on your back?”

  Dax sensed a mental sniff on indignation. “Dragons aren’t built to walk. I’d wear my pretty claws down to little nubbins by the time I walked all the way to Drundevil Pass like that poor drakon did.”

  With a smile Dax informed the doctor, “Now he’s worried about his pedicure if he goes on foot.” Dax paused with a thought. “If the bouncing is the problem, what about something with nice soft springs?”

  “What? Like the queen’s royal coach?” The doctor said it in jest, but her eyes widened when Dax nodded.

  “You will make Queen Layna’s royal coach a weapon of war? I like it. You could fly the East Landly flag, hang a big spear out the window, and ride into battle like a lancer in a pumpkin.”

  “Kahshect is not impressed by the idea,” Dax interpreted and smiled at the doctor, “but the more I think about it, the better I like it. The queen’s coach has large, soft springs. It doesn’t jounce, but it does sway and tip. Would that be a problem?”

  The doctor eyed him speculatively. “How are you with sea sickness? The queen’s coach is better for slow, dignified processions. You’d be traveling at speed and for a long distance.”

  Dax remembered his time on the Wings of Wind, and with that memory came a flicker of recollection of Anna, which he tamped down immediately. “I think I will do fine.”

  “Well, if you have vomiting, you could damage yourself if the spasms are severe enough,” she warned sternly. “You would have to eat light but frequent meals. No rich or spicy foods and no drinking.” She thought for a moment. “Not that you would have a problem with drink.” After a pause, she said, “You will need some sort of a cloth cap for your head to keep the sun off the new skin on your scalp. The rest of it too,” she added. “In fact, stay in the coach out of the sun.”

  They talked more, but although she still disapproved, the doctor finally gave her grudging assent to his participation in the expedition—if he went in the coach.

  #

  The rest of the morning was all rush and bustle. Dax had one last meeting with the queen to finalize which troops would go to confront West Landly and which would stay to keep order in the kingdom. The royal stable hands had gotten the royal coach ready for the journey on short notice. Dax looked it over as it came into the mustering yard. The large coach was glossy black and finely appointed with gaudy gilt trim. Inside, the seats were padded and upholstered in soft leather. A team of four matched blacks were restless in their harness, and the royal coachman sat in his formal uniform atop the rig in a special driver’s seat.

  Dax called up to the coachman. “We may be riding into battle, my good man. I do not ask you to do this.”

  The elderly man looked down at him without flinching. “I will not entrust this vehicle to untrained hands,” he sniffed. “Besides, I once served with the lancers. I am no stranger to battle.”

  Pleased with the man’s personal courage, Dax was more than happy to have an experienced driver. All in all, the coach was an ostentatious piece of equipment. It was fit for a queen, but he would use it to go to war . . . Or peace, he reminded himself. When all was ready, he climbed into the coach and ordered the driver to take it to the assembly point outside the city where the rest of the troops had gathered. His equipment, including Frohliem’s Shield, was already in the coach. He had borrowed the shield from the Royal Exhibit Hall again. He sincerely hoped this would be the last time.

  #

  The force was ready to march when Dax arrived. Markadamous had a broad smile on his face when Dax stepped down from the coach. “Now there is a wondrous sight,” he declared. “’Tis a fine way to go to war.”

  “I see there’s truth in what you say”—Dax returned the smile—“but I also need to warn you that Kahshect has been mocking my travel arrangements constantly. You will have to be as clever as you can if you are to keep up.”

  Markadamous chuckled. “I will not try to out-clever your big, scaly friend.”

  Commander Baffen, who had listened to the exchange, smiled and shook Dax’s hand. “I wish I was going with you, General. Best of luck.”

  “Thank you, Commander. I know you will keep order in the city.” Dax took one last look around at the group. “I’m hoping we both have a quiet time.” He turned and called, “Hi-up!” As his force started to move toward the gate and Drundevil Pa
ss, he turned back to Baffen. “Luck to us both.”

  #

  Once underway the Ugori unfurled their long black dragon pennants. Dax knew Kahshect was nearby, and he mentioned the sight to the dragon. He expected some lighthearted rejoinder, but Kahshect was all business. “Birworeth will be keeping me informed as well as keeping watch.”

  Dax nodded in unspoken agreement. Kahshect could not go along, and at first Rudale refused to involve his own bondmate in a possible war between men. At the distance to the pass, Kahshect might or might not have been able to feel Dax’s reactions when they met the West Landly Guard. Dax had finally convinced Rudale that since Birworeth was roaming the area, keeping watch, it was in Kahshect’s best interests to know specifically what was happening to his bondmate. They chose not to discuss the fact that once Kahshect knew, Baffen and the rest of Frohliem City could know. “You will just have to make do with secondhand information,” Dax replied.

  “You are still trying to find a way to get me to walk all the way to Drundevil Pass, aren’t you?” Finally the dragon’s banter was at least a little playful, but Dax knew Kahshect was concerned. Although he had fought many times as a mercenary without the dragon around, after the recent battle with the Tharans, Dax would miss having Kahshect at his side.

  #

  The royal coach did not bounce over the ruts in the road, but it rolled like a ship in a storm. After the first few miles, Dax figured out that if he kept his eyes on the scenery, the rocking and swaying of the coach did not bother him at all. By afternoon, he was used to the motion, and he scarcely noticed it. The coach had one major benefit he had not considered. While they were on the move, Dax held brief meetings with his officers to go over maps and strategy. However, he kept meetings short to prevent the officers from being upset by the coach’s motion.

  They rode well into the evening each day, and every night while the cooks prepared a late meal, he talked to the Ugori troops. He wanted to make sure they all knew they were not riding to battle. That was the last thing he wanted. If West Landly was coming to help, they would form an honor guard of welcome. On the other hand, if West Landly had come to conquer, he shared his part of the plan for that as well. If Dax gave the signal, he expected them to switch from a guard of honor to guardians of the kingdom in an instant.

  On the morning of the second day, Scarlet rode off with Markadamous to visit the site where Pulla had fallen. Although the Ugori had taken care of their dead at the battle earlier, Scarlet had brought flowers as a token of remembrance. Markadamous had insisted on going along. They returned to the column later in the afternoon. Markadamous rode inside the coach for a time to discuss placement of the Ugori reserves at the pass. After they had discussed their business, Markadamous offered, “The lad seems to be better. He said some quiet words and left the flowers. We didn’t say much, but at least we talked some.”

  Dax nodded. “I’m glad you are helping him.”

  “Helping him? He’s helping me. Losing that girl could tear a man’s heart out. At least with Pulchra, I have someone who loves me to talk with. He must bear her loss alone.”

  Scarlet joined them at the evening meal. He did not lead any lighthearted banter as he might have at other times, but neither did he shy away from social interchanges with the others around the fire.

  #

  Two days later in the late afternoon as they neared their destination, it was apparent they were expected. At the east end of Drundevil Pass, the West Landly Guard was arrayed across the narrow vale at the entrance to the pass. Two Ugori scouts reported back there were approximately four hundred men in defensive positions. They could not see how many more were dug in back inside the pass.

  Before they marched on to the pass, Dax held a conference with his officers, but there was little to decide. They had to challenge the intrusion and see what West Landly’s intentions were. Since West Landly had displayed several hundred men at the pass, Dax decided to contact them with a party of fifty.

  He chose an honor guard of ten lancers, but in addition to Scarlet and Markadamous, Ugori made up the rest of the party. They made ready in the shelter of a copse of trees. Despite his promise to the doctor, Dax was not about to ride to the confrontation inside the coach. He had to approach them as equals.

  Unfortunately, there was a problem. Dax’s ribs refused to allow him to swing up and over the saddle when he tried to mount his horse. Atch tried to help him up, but it finally took help from two other Ugori to get him up onto the horse. After several minutes of gentle maneuvering, he finally sat astride the horse, but Dax did not feel secure. His leg muscles would not grip the sides of the horse. Even with the stirrups, his balance was uncertain.

  Disgusted, Dax gestured at the saddle. “Just tie me on. If it comes to battle, I’m useless anyway. But when we meet them, I must look ready.” He recoiled from the pain when he tried to put Frohliem’s Shield on the tender skin of his left arm. “Can someone find a sash and just tie the shield in place?” His right arm was free to hold the reins, but the shield blocked him from drawing his sword. If it came to a fight, the challenge party had orders to retreat at full speed. The rest of his force would resist the assault. In his condition, Dax had no plans to fight anyone.

  Dax took a final look around. Everyone was ready. He gave the signal to move out. They rode slowly and calmly out of the trees toward the pass and the West Landly Guard.

  Chapter 24

  Lieutenant Wellik Weddle heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the first of the riders from East Landly. Finally! The worst part was always the waiting. It was late in the day, but now they would see what they would see. Were these soldiers coming up the road toward them really from East Landly? Or were they Tharans in disguise?

  He frowned. There were lancers with them who looked like lancers, but the officers were not what he expected. But after the gruesome carnage they had seen in the Chammanie Valley, how many lancers could be left? One man led the riders. He rode tall and stiff in the saddle. Helmet on his head, he carried a large shield at his side. The shield caught the light from the westering sun in brilliant reflections. To either side of him rode two men. One was a smaller officer who wore a bright-red sash, and the other was rough-looking man who wore a black tunic bordered in blue.

  Commander Denur urged his horse forward to meet the men. Weddle and Lieutenant Bisben followed behind. They rode a short distance in front of their line and waited until the approaching men were within about ten paces.

  “Hold!” commanded Denur. “Identify yourselves.”

  Weddle could only see the leader of the East Landly group from the side, but the scar across his cheek made him look like a hard man. “I would suggest since you and your men have intruded into East Landly, you should be the one to identify yourself first.” The man spoke sternly, his voice firm. His eyes never left Commander Denur’s.

  “If this is truly East Landly I face.” Denur replied. “We have reports of an invasion of your kingdom by Thara. I do not know you and your men. I see many uniforms I do not recognize. To whom am I speaking?”

  Weddle sighed to himself. It was like watching two old hound dogs trying to size each other up. They should just sniff each other’s behinds and get it over with. The leader of the unknown force turned his gaze from Denur and looked at the other men before him. The man had piercing dark eyes.

  Suddenly Weddle smiled. He kicked his horse forward a few steps. “By the Goddess, is that Gard Daxdendraig? Dax?”

  The man looked back at him sharply, but then a smile creased his face. “Wellik?” he said in surprise. “It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?”

  Weddle turned to Denur. “Commander, this is Gard Daxdendraig. We were roommates at Iron Moor. He is also dragon-bound. Every word he says will be the absolute truth.” Remembering a time when Commandant Renshau had caught them in some mischief, he added, “More’s the pity.”

  Commander Denur looked back a Dax. “The Tharans?” he asked. The challenge was gone from his voice.r />
  “They brought a drakon against us, but we triumphed.”

  “We’d heard there was a dragon, and after what we found in the valley, I find it hard to believe you prevailed.”

  The large man behind Dax moved his horse up closer. “We beat ’em because General Dax here killed the beastie right in front of the city.” After Dax shot him a look, the man added, “He and his dragon, that is.”

  Denur pulled his helmet off and nudged his horse closer. “Then, General, I offer you my hand in congratulation. I am Commander Chance Denur, and I offer you the hands of all my fellows in any help we may give. Queen Dara sends her regards as well as all the supplies, equipment, and craftspersons in our expedition.”

  “So you offer help.” Much of the tension went out of the East Landly leader. “That was our hope, and I apologize for any offense our lack of immediate welcome may have given.”

  Denur waved off his apology. “General, would you like to camp here for the night? I will have everything brought up, and we can leave for Frohliem City in the morning.”

  Weddle watched as Dax looked around. Finally the general nodded. “I think that would be for the best. I pushed my men hard getting here. The city has need, but there was little destruction.” He pointed back up the pass. “Did you see our recovery expedition we sent into the valley?”

  “I think so,” Denur said. “They scrambled up into the hills before we could contact them. I have a large detail back at the site of the . . .” He hesitated. “The battle. They are ordered to honor your dead and return any items that may be of value in identifying the fallen.”

  Hearing a rumble behind him, Weddle turned to look. Ambassador Carmodi’s coach was approaching, and the man himself leaned out the window. “Dax! Dax, is that you?” the old man called. He hooted and waved.

  Although Denur had been reluctant to allow the aged official to accompany them on what might have been a combat mission, Weddle had to admit the old man had traveled well. He watched Carmodi spring from the coach and dance a little jig, happily flailing his arms in the air. The ambassador rushed up to Dax. “We triumph! You must tell me everything. Details, my boy. I need details.”