Dragontiarna: Knights

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “I don’t see how,” said Tyrcamber. “As far as I know, this is the first time someone from my world has visited yours. Our ancestors might have come from Old Earth, but they followed divergent paths.”

  “No,” said Calliande. “You are right, Sir Tyrcamber…but we are speaking of only human history. This world is the home of the elves, and the cloak elves migrated to your world from here. Our worlds have been connected before.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Tyrcamber. “But that was tens of thousands of years ago. The rifts only opened this morning.”

  “Or those rifts are the only ones that we know about,” said Calliande. “Perhaps others have opened, or there are more of those Dwyrstones scattered around Andomhaim.”

  Ridmark didn’t like that thought. He didn’t like it at all.

  “Antenora,” he said. “I don’t suppose Caldorman left a letter explaining his beliefs and the plans of the Drakocenti?”

  “Alas, our foes are rarely so accommodating,” said Antenora. “But I have found why the monastery was so unwilling to lend aid to the men of Ebor. They are almost penniless.”

  “What?” said Accolon. “How is that possible? The monastery has wide lands and flocks.”

  “Aye, but they have sent almost all of their coin and movable wealth to Cintarra,” said Antenora.

  “Cintarra?” said Accolon. “That…the payments didn’t go to Caitrin Rhosmor’s family, did they?”

  “No,” said Antenora. “The abbot sent most of the monastery’s wealth to the Scepter Bank in Cintarra. The bursar and the librarian delivered the money and the goods themselves. Likely they were Drakocenti as well, which is why the fled once Niall rescued Prince Accolon.”

  “A bank,” said Tyrcamber, a grim note in his voice.

  “It is an institution that lends money for profit,” said Calliande.

  “We have them in the Empire, in the Imperial Free Cities,” said Tyrcamber. “The bankers can amass great wealth…and unless they are held in check by a strong ruler, they invariably become corrupt and wicked. And the Dragon Cult finds fertile ground in the greedy hearts of such men. Several times in the Empire the Dragon Cult has controlled banks in the Imperial Free Cities.”

  “I think it’s safe to assume that the missing monks have fled to Cintarra,” said Caius. “Perhaps the Drakocenti have friends in the Scepter Bank.”

  “Maybe even in the Regency Council,” said Accolon.

  Niall coughed. “My lords, it is not my place to speak…”

  “No, go ahead,” said Accolon. “For as long as I live, you shall have my ear, Niall of Ebor. I would not have a life at all if not for your aid.”

  “The Scepter Bank and the Regency Council have a bad reputation in Cintarra,” said Niall. “It’s said that the bank loans the lords money so they can enclose land and raise sheep.” He gave a hesitant shrug. “I don’t know if that’s true or not.”

  “Perhaps they are just greedy,” said Caius. “I fear that is a common enough sin.”

  “Perhaps,” said Ridmark. “Or perhaps there is more here than we can see. And greed is often the first step to greater evils.” He paced several steps, frowning. “I think we shall have to ask the High King to investigate what is happening in Cintarra. I think we will have to ask him about it soon.”

  The Drakocenti were a mystery, and Ridmark hated mysteries. It reminded him of how he had sought the dark truth behind the Frostborn, and that truth had been worse than anything he had imagined. Or the riddle behind the Seven Swords in Owyllain. That, too, had concealed a dark truth in its depths, one that had almost destroyed the world. And though the Frostborn and the Sovereign had both been defeated, a lot of men had fallen in battle before it was over.

  Was he on the edge of some other dark mystery now?

  “I agree,” said Accolon. “These Drakocenti murdered an innocent woman so they could lure me to my death.” There was something hard and unyielding in his eyes now, as if the part of his heart that had been filled with guilt had turned instead to steel. “And one way or another, I intend to find those responsible and bring them to justice.”

  ***

  Chapter 22: Closing The Way

  The next morning Ridmark stood outside the walls of Castarium and watched the last of the Imperial forces return to their homeland.

  Duke Hulderic wanted to get underway as soon as possible, citing the need to defend his damaged and only recently reconquered castle. Ridmark also suspected the Duke wanted to return to the Empire before the rift collapsed. He understood the feeling. Ridmark had been dismayed to find himself trapped in Owyllain, three and a half thousand miles from his home, but both Andomhaim and Owyllain were on the same world. The thought of getting stranded on another world was a staggering one.

  He also let the Imperial forces take whatever they wanted from the battlefield as spoils. Without their help, Castarium would likely have fallen to the Signifier’s forces. Arandar and Tormark would have arrived to find Castarium ashes and its people and defenders slain. It also helped that Lord Nakhrakh’s gnolls had eaten most of the slain goblins and ogres, sparing the men of Castarium from the labor of burning or burying the dead to prevent plague.

  The last of the serjeants marched through the rift, and Ridmark was alone with Sir Tyrcamber, Duke Hulderic, Sir Angaric, Sir Daniel, and Sir Olivier. And Thunder Cloud, of course, though Ridmark was wise enough not to approach or startle the griffin.

  “Well,” said Hulderic. “I must confess that I did not expect that our campaign against the Signifier would conclude with a journey to another world, but it seems to have ended well enough. Good fortune to you, Count Ridmark, and may God smile on you. Should you ever happen to find your way to the Empire, you shall have a friend in Valstrasia.”

  “Thank you, Duke Hulderic,” said Ridmark. “If we meet again, may it be under happier circumstances.”

  But he thought another meeting was unlikely. Once the last the men of the Empire traversed the rift, Ridmark would use Oathshield to close the gate, and Antenora and Calliande had worked out how to put the Dwyrstone back to sleep. That would be that. Ridmark would never see anyone from the Empire again.

  But it had been too much of a coincidence that the Drakocenti had tried to kill Accolon when the rifts had opened. Ridmark suspected the conflict with the Drakocenti was just beginning.

  Hulderic nodded, turned his horse, and rode into the rift.

  “This is farewell, Lord Ridmark,” said Tyrcamber. “Thank you for your aid. You rid us of a powerful enemy when you struck down the Signifier.”

  “I would not have been able to do it without your help,” said Ridmark. “What is next for you?”

  “The war to reunify the Empire continues,” said Tyrcamber, and he looked so weary for such a young man. “The Dukes still have not managed to elect an Emperor. A Dragonmaeloch controls much of the central Empire, and the Order of Blood has declared itself openly. We have much fighting before us.” He offered a wan smile. “But you have your own hunt, do you not?”

  “We are going to find the Drakocenti and burn them out of Andomhaim,” said Ridmark.

  “I wish you good fortune in that quest,” said Tyrcamber. “Better to act now, while they are still weak and concealed, rather than waiting until they are strong enough to declare themselves openly. These secret cults and orders are like cancers, festering in the dark until they are strong enough to strike. If we had been able to rid the Empire of the Dragon Cult or the Fallen Order before the Valedictor’s invasion, much evil would have been averted.”

  “God go with you in battle,” said Ridmark.

  “And you, Shield Knight,” said Tyrcamber.

  He and the others raised their hands in farewell and then rode through the rift back to Castle Grimnir, Sir Olivier leading Thunder Cloud. Ridmark waited until they were through, then he strode forward, drew Oathshield, and called upon the soulblade’s power to protect from magic. He thrust the sword into the rift, and the gate snapped shut,
leaving behind only a charred mark on the ground and a few wisps of smoke.

  With that, Ridmark supposed, he would never see Tyrcamber Rigamond and his friends again.

  Yet his instincts said that he was standing on the edge of a conflict that was just beginning.

  Well, he could brood upon it, or he could act. Ridmark turned and strode to his waiting men-at-arms, and then mounted his horse and rode back to Castarium.

  ###

  A short time later, Ridmark stood with Kharlacht, Caius, Accolon, and several others, and watched Calliande and Antenora conclude their work with the white menhir in the forum.

  Or the Dwyrstone, as the Signifier had called it. Calliande and Antenora both knew enough of the various elven tongues to say that the word meant “bridge stone,” and Ridmark supposed that was accurate. The stone had opened a bridge between Andomhaim and the Empire.

  Ridmark wondered if this Dwyrstone was the only one.

  Or if the mysterious woman called Aeliana was now traveling throughout Andomhaim, finding long-forgotten Dwyrstones and awakening them one by one.

  Was Aeliana part of the Drakocenti?

  Ridmark didn’t know, but he intended to find out.

  “Ready?” said Calliande to Antenora.

  “I am,” said Antenora. “We may proceed, Keeper.”

  Calliande nodded and started a spell, and Antenora followed suit. A thin shaft of white fire lanced from Calliande’s hand, slicing across the glowing glyphs covering the Dwyrstone. Antenora’s spell did the same, and wherever the white fire touched the glyphs, their blue glow faded. At last, the Dwyrstone let out a metallic chiming noise. There was a flash of blue light, and the glyphs on the stone went dark.

  Both Calliande and Antenora staggered back, eyes wide.

  “Are you all right?” said Ridmark.

  “I’m…I’m fine,” said Calliande, catching her breath. Antenora nodded and wiped some sweat from her forehead. “That was harder than I expected. But the stone has gone back to sleep. It won’t open any more rifts. But…”

  “The Sight,” said Antenora. “I saw it.”

  “As did I,” said Calliande.

  “What did you see?” said Ridmark.

  “This stone is linked to something else,” said Calliande. “I could only see the connection when the magic failed, but I’m certain of it. World gates require a tremendous amount of power, even small, temporary ones like the Dwyrstone opened. I didn’t sense all that much magical power inside this stone, but that was because it was drawing on another source of power, one much stronger.”

  “What kind of power?” said Ridmark.

  Calliande met his eyes. “I don’t know, but it was somewhere in Cintarra. I was certain of it.”

  “I concur,” said Antenora. “Cintarra, or somewhere beneath the city in the Deeps. I was able to follow the connection to its source, roughly, and I had a brief vision of Cintarra before the Dwyrstone returned to dormancy.”

  “Cintarra,” said Ridmark, making the word a curse. “It looks like we have one more reason to investigate what is happening there.”

  “As if I already did not have reason enough,” said Accolon.

  ###

  Niall sucked in a deep breath and hurried across the courtyard.

  Weirdly, he was nervous. He wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t been nervous before going into battle. Granted, he had been afraid, even terrified, but that was different. That was the sort of screaming fear that raged in the back of his brain even as he ignored the feeling. This was different.

  Lord Ridmark had summoned him, and Niall wondered why.

  He found the Shield Knight standing outside the stables at the southern end of the courtyard. A memory tugged at Niall’s mind, and he realized this was where Lord Ridmark’s brother had fallen to the ogre’s axe. The bodies had all been cleared away, but Niall saw the faint remnant of the bloodstains on the flagstones.

  “My lord,” said Niall, coming to a halt.

  “Thank you, Niall, for coming,” said Lord Ridmark, gravely courteous as he usually was. His icy eyes were distant. “Did you have any siblings?”

  “No, my lord,” said Niall. “I was the only one. Aunt Rhiain says that our family never had many children.” He wasn’t sure what to say, and then rallied his nerve. “I’m sorry about Sir Valmark, my lord. He seemed like a valiant knight.”

  “He was,” said Ridmark. “He and I were never close, I admit, but I respected him. At least our parents were not alive. It is a grim thing when a father outlives his child.” He blinked as if remembering something else, and then shook his head. “But I did not bring you here to speak on that. We have business to discuss.”

  “We do?” said Niall, puzzled.

  “I said you would work for me until your debt was paid,” said Ridmark. “Well, you saved the life of Accolon Pendragon, who is both my friend and the crown prince of Andomhaim. And if you had not saved him, we would never have learned of the danger of the Drakocenti. Not only have you repaid your debt, I am now in yours.”

  Niall shifted. “I did kill the abbot.” That unnerved him a little. An abbot was a holy man, a servant of God and the church, and Niall had killed him.

  “He was a false abbot,” said Ridmark. “An apostate from the church, a traitor to Andomhaim, and by his own admission, a murderer who slew an innocent woman to lure Prince Accolon to his death. If you hadn’t killed him, I would have, and if I hadn’t, the High King would have executed him. So, I am in your debt, Niall of Ebor, and if I can do you a service, I will.”

  “A service?” said Niall.

  “What do you want?” said Ridmark.

  The question was so obvious, yet Niall didn’t know how to answer that. Lord Ridmark had already sent the men of Ebor on their way to Tarlion, with a letter of introduction and coin to pay their barge passage north to the city of Marhosk and then the Northerland. Rhiain was safe and had work in the castra.

  What did Niall want for himself?

  He wanted to go back to his uncle’s farm and find his parents still alive, but he knew that would never happen. Even if the High King decreed an end to sheep enclosures tomorrow and all the displaced villagers could go home, it wouldn’t be the same. It would never be the same.

  “I want to help,” said Niall.

  Ridmark said nothing, letting him work through his thoughts.

  “I heard you and Lady Calliande say you were going to investigate the Drakocenti,” said Niall. “I want to help with that. Ebor and the valley of the River Cintarra were my home, my lord. If you’re going to try to set right what has gone wrong there, I want to help.” He shrugged. “And maybe it’s all connected, the Drakocenti and the Scepter Bank and the Regency Council.”

  “It likely is,” said Ridmark. “You want no reward? Gold or lands?”

  “No, my lord,” said Niall. “No reward. I want to help, however I can.”

  Ridmark inclined his head. “Your aunt said you would say something like that. Very well. We shall make you a man-at-arms in my service. You’ll have some training, so you know how to take care of your weapons and armor properly. And some lessons in sword work, so you don’t wield your sword like a damned club.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” said Niall. “I…will have to speak with my aunt.”

  “Oh, she already knew how you would decide,” said Ridmark. “She and Calliande had come to an agreement. My wife needs someone to oversee our household when we travel, and Rhiain has taken the job.”

  Niall blinked in surprise. “She has?”

  “Aye, she seems suited to the work, and Calliande likes her,” said Ridmark. “We’re probably going first to Tarlion and then to Cintarra, and you and Rhiain will come with us.”

  “I see,” said Niall. He was relieved. He would have missed his aunt, and he was glad that she had work.

  A smile flashed over Ridmark’s hard face. “You were never married, I suppose? Too young?”

  “No, my lord,” said Niall. “Um…well, there were gi
rls in Ebor, but they never talked to me, and…”

  “When you get a little older,” said Ridmark, “you’ll often find that the women decide everything among themselves first, and then they arrange matters so that we think it was our own idea. Go to the armory. Vegetius is waiting for you, and he will get you armed and instructed in your new duties.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” said Niall. “I won’t disappoint you.”

  “No,” said Ridmark. “I don’t think you will.”

  ***

  Chapter 23: Alliances

  The rift winked out of existence, and Tyrcamber took a deep breath and looked around the courtyard of Castle Grimnir.

  The scene was one of orderly chaos. Moving five thousand men and a thousand gnolls anywhere was a challenge, and though the castle’s courtyard was large, it was still too small for that many men and gnolls. Most of the men were already outside the walls, heading to their camps. The gnolls had already moved outside the castle, which due to their powerful odor was a relief for most of the men. Tyrcamber raised his head and looked at the rippling sky fire, currently the harsh yellow-orange of early afternoon.

  He was surprised at how relieved he was to see it. The skies over Andomhaim had been strange. That sheet of unbroken blue had been pretty, but unsettling. And the sunlight never flickered the way that the sky fire did. How did the men of Andomhaim get used to that?

  But Tyrcamber supposed a man could get used to nearly anything.

  He ought to know, after all.

  He shook off his musings and attended to the business at hand. Duke Hulderic sat atop his horse, giving orders to his knights, and Tyrcamber rode to join him. Hulderic inclined his head in greeting.

  “It’s done, then?” he said.

  “Aye, all the gates are closed,” said Tyrcamber. It was good to speak honest Frankish again. He could manage in Latin, but he still had a hard time keeping the accusative and ablative nouns separate. “And Lord Ridmark was confident that the Keeper could put the Dwyrstone back to sleep. We should have no further trouble with these rifts.”