by Nathan Roden
Dathien turned his attention to the woman. He raised his right hand. He closed his eyes.
“Please,” the woman whispered. “I have children.”
Dathien opened his eyes.
“Where are these children?”
“I don’t know, My Lord!”
“I am not your Lord!” Dathien boomed. “Dathien does not keep a stable of whores as his subjects!”
“I am so sorry, My—I am sorry! What do you want from me?”
Dathien sniffed the air again.
“You have a child capable of magic. Powerful magic, indeed.”
Dathien stepped toward the trembling woman.
“Bring him to me.”
“I’m telling the truth,” the woman sobbed. “I don’t know where they are.”
Dathien raised his chin.
“You do speak the truth.”
He raised his right hand and held it toward the woman.
“And therefore, you are no use to me at all.”
“Please, I will—”
Dathien drew his fingers toward his palm.
The woman’s hand flew to her throat. She gurgled and struggled to breathe.
Dathien balled his hand into a fist. The woman groaned once and fell to the ground.
Dathien turned and walked back toward Castle Morgenwraithe.
Caleb, Sara, and Ezekiel huddled together for warm, hidden in the forest.
Caleb struggled with the thought of how he would explain to his sister and brother
That they were now orphans.
Twenty-One
Simon, Helena, and Magdalena found the cave deserted. They searched the area for signs of Boone.
Nothing.
Simon noted the path through the woods, strew with flattened trees.
“The wizard did this?” he whispered to Magdalena.
She nodded.
Helena sat on a felled tree trunk, her face in her hands.
“As I said before, Helena,” Simon said. “If anyone can survive these woods, it is Boone.”
Helena sat up, sniffed, and dried her eyes. She nodded.
“I am going to take both of you to Islemar now,” Simon said.
“No!” Magdalena said. “I’m going with you!”
Simon shook his head.
“I cannot carry six people, even if three are children. It is too dangerous. It would also be dangerous for me to leave Helena in Islemar alone.”
“I can take care of myself,” Helena said.
“What if someone in the village recognized you?” Simon asked. “What if Sterling discovers that you are still alive? He would begin to question everything.”
“Such as why I am in Islemar on the day of the queen’s name day,” Magdalena said.
“Our plans will never be without flaws,” Simon said.
Simon landed in a clearing outside of Islemar. His chest still pained him. He was in a hurry, but his belly was empty. He flew to the familiar cove and caught his fill of fish. He waited until near dusk and flew low over the forest in the direction of the children’s home.
Simon landed in the same clearing where he had the confrontation with the pack of jackals. He had not seen a single person during the passage.
Most have already made the journey to Morgenwraithe, he thought.
Filling the Inns, or tents and bedrolls.
Simon sought out the pathway to the house. He did not feel the need to navigate the forest. He also wanted to concentrate on what he would say to the children’s mother.
After she stops screaming, of course. Simon could not help but smile at the thought. Only children seem capable of confronting a talking dragon without screaming.
Simon’s smile was short-lived.
When he saw the crows covering a huddled mass, he knew that there would be no discussion that day.
No, he thought. Not the children…
He would have to go closer. And he did. The crows squawked in protest as they retreated.
It was the mother.
Simon was relieved. And he cursed at himself for his thoughts.
Simon closed his eyes. He said a silent prayer for the dead woman. Inside of his mind, he reached out to Caleb.
The forest. They are in the forest.
He found them, minutes later.
“She’s dead,” Caleb whispered.
“Yes,” Simon said. “I’m sorry.”
Sara held Zeke close. She cried, softly. Zeke did not understand, but he knew perfectly well what sad was.
“I know you are hungry,” Simon said. “I am taking you somewhere you will be safe. And you will be fed.”
“Is it far?” Caleb asked. “I can carry Zeke, but it will be slow.”
“It is much too far for that,” Simon said. “I will have to carry you. And I must depend on you to hold onto Sara and Zeke.”
“We are going to ride on your back?” Sara asked.
“Yes.”
“Can we not…can we tell her…goodbye?” Caleb asked.
Simon shook his head.
“You must tell her goodbye…in your hearts.”
Twenty-Two
Boone rubbed his arms. He sat on the ground against a tree, shivering. The weather had changed. It had not been this cold of late. He heard the hoot of an owl, and the occasional cricket.
He thought he heard voices.
Whispering.
And then he saw the light of a lamp.
“Boone!” he heard the whispered shout.
If they know my name, they’ll likely kill me anyway, Boone thought. That may be preferable to freezing to death.
“Here!”
Two pairs of feet approached him.
“The night has turned a bit nippy, eh?” Oliver asked.
Boone snatched the blanket from Oliver’s arms and threw it around his shoulders.
“Bless you, my fine fellow.”
“Compliments of our benevolent queen,” Oliver said. “But I’m guessing that you knew that already.”
“We had never met before today,” Boone said.
“That’s a little hard to believe,” Timothy said. “Maybe you could teach me a thing or two—about how you get beautiful girls to throw themselves into your arms right after you meet them.”
Oliver handed Boone a wine skin and a pouch of food. He took a big drink and wiped his mouth.
“That was just water, if my tongue isn’t lying to me,” Boone smiled.
Oliver returned the smile and produced another skin, this one actually filled with wine.
“You’ll need the extra warmth, if you’re to last the night out here,” he said.
Boone looked at Timothy.
“I know someone who thinks very highly of our queen.”
“Everyone thinks highly of the queen,” Timothy said. “Especially Oliver and me. But she doesn’t cry on our shoulders.”
“You’re talking about ‘him’, aren’t you?” Oliver asked.
Boone stared into Oliver’s eyes.
He nodded.
“By the gods,” Oliver sighed.
Boone laid his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“The two of you—you are committed to the cause?”
Oliver nodded.
“Now, wait just a minute,” Timothy said. “We don’t know this bloke, Oliver. He just dropped from the sky this very day! And you’re swearing our loyalty to him? And this cause he speaks of?”
“I told the queen that you and I were of one accord,” Oliver said. “There must be a revolution—to restore the realm to greatness.”
“And this—” Timothy pointed at Boone. “This is our leader? One man, alone, who shivers in the forest.”
“No, I am no leader,” Boone said. “But your true leader…is my friend.”
Oliver put his hand on Timothy’s shoulder.
“His friend is Simon Morgenwraithe.”
Timothy’s knees buckled. He leaned against a tree.
“The dragon?”
“The d
ragon-KING!” Oliver said. “Surely, you have heard of him—”
“Heard of him?” Timothy said. “I…I spoke to him! And he to me!”
“Come now, Tim—”
Timothy nodded his head, vigorously.
“He burned everyone alive—right before my eyes,” Timothy said. His eyes filled with tears.
“The day that the dragon escaped the dungeon—I had never been so scared in my entire life. I knew that Raynard would have my head, but I could not make myself run through those doors. My sword against his fire? It was certain death. I ran, and the dragon caught me. I begged for my life. He told me to go, and to tell no one.”
“I meet up with friends, tomorrow,” Boone said. “We journey to seek support to return the throne to the rightful king.”
“The dragon?” Timothy said. “How can a dragon sit the throne and rule a people?”
“The heart of a king beats within the body of a dragon for now,” Boone said. “But it will not always be so.”
“If you can have the sorceress remove the curse why have you not done it already?” Oliver asked. “Sterling will kill her before he allows that to happen.”
“We believe that people are more impressed with strength than a birthright,” Boone said. “Particularly when challenging Sterling, Raynard, and their army.”
“But to ally behind a dragon?” Timothy said.
“Not just any dragon,” Boone said. “A dragon with the heart and soul of a king.”
“We will come with you,” Oliver said.
Boone shook his head.
“That won’t work. Missing members of the army will get the attention of Sterling, Raynard, and your senior officers. You have an important role to play, here in Morgenwraithe. The Queen and her child are forever in danger.”
“The child, as well?” Oliver asked.
“We are talking about Lord Sterling, Oliver,” Timothy said. “Have you forgotten his fit of rage in the dungeon? Have you forgotten how he—?”
“No,” Oliver said. “The vision haunts my dreams.”
“We will guard the queen’s life with our own.”
The army was called to assembly the following morning.
Oliver and Timothy stood next to each other.
“Who do you think his friends are?” Timothy whispered. “They must be here in Morgenwraithe.”
“Boone’s friends?” Oliver answered. “They could be anyone—the town was filled with travelers.”
“But most all of them left the village yesterday,” Timothy said. “Unless they had too much to drink. And that wouldn’t be the best basis for revolution.”
“Shhh!” Oliver said.
The army commander stepped in front of the assembly, with Lord Sterling at his side.
“Members of the Infantry of King Lucien’s Army, I require your attention!”
“Yes, Lord Commander!” came the shouted reply of the assembly. All the members were very young, and very frightened. None of them thought that a special assembly on their behalf could be good news.
The Commander looked out over the soldiers.
“We will be fortifying our position on the Southland Border. I will now read a list of names. If your name is called, make your way to the front and line up in front of Lord Sterling and myself.”
Both Oliver’s and Timothy’s name were called.
They moved to the front and stood side-by-side.
When the commander finished announcing the names, he dismissed the rest of the infantry.
Sterling paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back.
He looked at Oliver and then at Timothy.
“How many of you were in uniform on the day the traitorous wench freed the dragon?”
Oliver and Timothy were the only two.
“Remarkable,” Sterling said flatly.
“How you two emerged unscathed—while over a hundred men, more experienced than you, met with a fiery death.”
Oliver and Timothy said nothing.
“You are friends, now, are you not?”
“Yes, Lord Sterling, Sir,” Oliver said.
“Ah, the bonds of war,” Sterling said. “The bonds of brotherhood!”
Sterling stared into Oliver’s eyes. Oliver felt as if the devil himself had reached inside of his heart and his soul.
“The bonds of those who survived against all odds—and for no apparent reason.”
“Nonetheless,” Sterling said. “Perhaps the two of you possess extraordinary luck. There is never an abundance of that. Friendship can prove to be a valuable asset in troubled times. However, it can also cloud one’s judgment when it is needed most. In that regard, you—” Sterling pointed at Timothy.
“You will report to the Border Guard.”
Sterling pointed at Oliver.
“You will remain here with the infantry.”
“If there are those of us who breed good fortune, it would be foolish to keep them all in one place.”
Twenty-Three
An enormous tent was raised on the lawn of Castle Morgenwraithe to accommodate the feast for Queen Jaclyn’s name day. The feast would take place before the public celebration in the kingdom’s arena.
Jaclyn was embarrassed and more than a little nervous that so many more people had traveled to the village for her name day than had done so for Lucien’s.
Jaclyn found it hard to concentrate, with everything that had happened in the last days. She found comfort in seeing the smiling faces of her father and mother. Jaclyn often thought that their presence was the only thing that kept her from sinking into a deep, dark, and lonely place.
Her newest friend and confidant—was her unborn son. She carried on long one-sided conversations with him when she was alone.
The mood inside of the tent was light and happy. The weather was perfect. Close to two hundred people had gathered inside. They joked and reminisced and laughed as the serving staff filled the long tables with the finest food in the kingdom.
Jaclyn saw Tilda making many trips back and forth between the tent and the kitchen. She admonished the others to move quickly.
And then, Tilda entered the tent carrying two large bowls of boiled turnips. She wobbled and tried to pass the bowls to another girl, but only succeeded in toppling the bowls onto the front of the horrified girl’s smock.
Tilda held her hands over her mouth as the color left her face. She turned and ran from the tent.
Jaclyn’s eyes narrowed and a taut grin spread across her lips.
I know that feeling all too well, Tilda, Jaclyn thought.
Who is your bastard’s father? Our beloved king, perhaps?
Jaclyn’s smile disappeared.
Lord Sterling and Captain Raynard entered the tent, laughing loudly. Sterling’s foot slipped on a turnip. He shouted a string of curses, most of which left no doubt about how he felt about lowly servants—and their mothers.
Sterling and Raynard were quite drunk.
Jaclyn saw the looks on the faces of Lord and Lady Lamont. She recognized the looks of disgust—and perhaps even anger.
Jaclyn forced herself to take a deep breath and remain calm. She had struggled with her own emotions of late. She had experienced so many highs and lows that she was not certain of her own sanity.
Lord Sterling fell into a chair.
“Boys!” He cried, summoning his tasters.
Two young boys ran to his side. He grunted and pointed to the two full wine-skins that another servant had placed in front of him and Raynard.
After Sterling was convinced that his tasters were still among the living, he pointed to his and Raynard’s empty cups. One of the boys filled them both. Sterling drained his cup in one drink. He belched and shoved himself away from the table. His chair toppled over. It was quickly righted by one of the boys.
“Where are my manners?” he said loudly. Many of the others present tried to ignore him.
Sterling grabbed his chalice and shook it at the boy. The boy refilled it. S
terling lifted it high.
“A toast!” he said. “To the queen and the heir that she carries!”
Jaclyn nodded her head. There was polite applause until the others saw Sterling glaring in their directions. The applause swelled. Sterling returned clumsily to his seat.
“Lord Lamont!” Sterling said.
Lord and Lady Lamont were seated across the table and several places apart. This did not seem to concern Sterling.
“Yes, Lord Sterling,” Lamont said.
“Have you had any better fortune with your wolf problem?” Sterling asked.
“I have not had time to pursue them since we last met,” Lamont said.
“My man Dathien encountered a wolf near the mountain’s summit,” Sterling sneered. “Along with evidence that the dragon has been resting there!”
A hush fell over the crowd. That time, it was the glare of Nicolas Lamont that discouraged the crowd from listening to the conversation.
“It is a good thing you and your lieutenant did not climb all the way to the summit,” Sterling said. “Two swords against a dragon is never a fair fight.”
“Even a hundred trained swords may not be enough,” Lamont said.
Sterling’s eyes narrowed. He smacked his lips.
“The beast would already be dead but for a single act of treason!”
Sterling’s eyes glanced quickly to Jaclyn and back.
“The treasonous act of one little girl; and a hundred men rot in their graves!”
“Perhaps it would be better not to speak of such things on a day of celebration, Uncle,” Lucien said.
Hatred flared in Sterling’s eyes. As drunk as he was, it took him a moment to stop himself from speaking what was truly on his mind. He had controlled himself publicly for the entire length of his status as Regent.
“A treasonous act, indeed, Lord Sterling,” Nicolas Lamont said. “But justice did prevail. The girl paid the price.”
