Dragon Heartstone > Chapter 9–Opportunity Arises

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The southern gate of Wolfbern loomed before Coronados. He tugged the reins to slow his horse’s gait. While brushing the road dust off his clothes, he studied the entrance. Several guards lazily stood at their posts, only partially focused on passersby. Such inattentive fools would not challenge him; even if they did, they would have no cause to detain him. To further underscore his assumption, the guards waved him through without glancing. He tapped the back quarters of his horse with spurs, a swirling image of a hot bath and a meal churned in his mind.

The past few days had been exhausting and painful; he looked forward to settling into a bed for the rest of the day, perhaps the next. Soreness radiated through his legs and arms as he gingerly shifted weight from one sore spot to another. Somewhere ahead was the Blue Dragon Inn, a favorite haunt since his days as a “runner” for the Guild. But he had neither the time nor the opportunity to take advantage of the Inn’s reputation. He had spent the night in the saddle, chasing the memory of his nemesis, Riasean. The bitterness of that outcome tugged at his mood. Perhaps he should not be too disappointed. While he did not personally get revenge on the boy, at least the lad did not survive the massacre at the Black Tower. He would have to be satisfied with that.

A blue dragon, claws unfurled, danced upon a wooden sign as it hung from the high eaves of the building in his path. Another ache from a distant, reflective memory leaped from the stump of his right hand, now sheathed with a sharp, gleaming hook. While the Inn was an excellent establishment, its reputation was at odds with how he first became acquainted with it some twelve years ago. “Runners” for the assassins’ guild took messages from one group to the next. Depending on speed and reliability, the pay could be appealing. The cost of getting caught by the wrong crowd was steep–as evidenced by the cold steel reflecting up at him.

Ten years ago, a moment’s hesitation exacted that cost at the Inn. But that gave him the tool he needed to exact payment from the one who gave it to him nearly a year later in Tenoach. Yes, that score was a fitting way to get retribution. He had hoped to gain similar satisfaction by delivering payback to Riasean for interfering with his attempt to kidnap Larah. That aspect, however, remained forever unresolved. Now, it was time to rest. Two days of riding without sleep, adequate food or water had worn him down. Time for a soft bed.

That goal was interrupted a short time later. After dropping saddle bags on the bed, Coronados noticed his tab on the cipher book glowing slightly. A message? Why now? Despite his misgivings, he picked it up and opened the page with a hook. Spidery script revealed itself to him. He sat on the bed and read it.

Alric is in Northam, traveling south with just a few guards. A dwarf and a young black-haired girl accompany him.

Larah. A thrill shot through him as the possibilities danced before his eyes–to pull this off would be a spectacular achievement, personally and professionally. A yawn crept upon him, but he suppressed it. No time for rest. A team had to be recruited, and a plan worked out. He could sleep when he was dead. Grabbing his bags, he sailed out of the room.

* * *

From the tree line, Britta stared toward the campfires surrounding a distant encampment. The dots of light stretched in a semicircle, dimly illuminating the standards with crossed spears over an oak leaf, the royal flag of Bretagne.

Gall looked at Mikail. “How long have they been here?”

“Long enough to do that,” he said, pointing eastward a short distance toward a plume of fire, from which smoke disappeared into the night air. “All that remains of the village of Benoit.”

An acrid stench lingered in the air. “How many villages does that make?” Britta asked.

“Three,” Mikail said, not trying to hide his disgust. “It would have been more, but their army moves slowly and inefficiently.”

“Good,” Gall replied. “The damage is limited.”

Britta gripped her reins tightly and stared at the smoke, snaking wraith-like into the air. Limited? Not for the unfortunate in those villages. Her stomach turned. How blithely Gall talks about death and destruction.

“Perhaps,” Mikail replied. “They prepare to move north toward Curoth, the largest village yet.”

Gall gritted his teeth. “Then we haven’t a moment to waste. Take me to Nikolas immediately.”

Mikail nodded.

A short ride further north revealed a rise that dominated the immediate area. Around the base stood several stone ramparts, remnants of an ancient fort. A flag fluttered from a crumbling watchtower near the crest, bearing the symbol of the Preytars, a yellow snake on a field of black.

Britta stared at the crumbling base of the tower, “What are these fortifications for?”

Mikail answered, “Centuries ago, there was a kingdom northwest of here called Karnaugh. They raided what eventually became Bretagne until King Alared, who later became the first king of Bretagne, wiped them out. These fortifications are all that remain of the defenses against Karnaugh. Most of the stone from here was taken north to fortify the Keihl or south to Landros.”

“Keihl is a fair distance from here.”

“True, but it is also Bretagne’s most important city in this region because it controls the northern passes of the Black Shadow Mountains.”

As they finished speaking, a man dressed in black leather, wearing an eye patch over his left eye, stepped out of the darkness. His face broke into a grin when he spied Gall.

“Hail, Brin Shar. Tis good to see you again.”

“Hail, Nikolas. We must talk,” Gall said.

Nikolas nodded and turned to Britta. “Your majesty, it’s good to see you again too.” Britta nodded. The First Preytar waved them toward a smaller tent near the watch tower base. Gall and Britta dismounted and walked to the tent. Inside was a small table with two benches. “Please, have a seat,” Nikolas offered after he entered. Gall and Britta settled themselves on one and Nikolas on the other.

“What is Edwyn doing?” Gall asked.

Nikolas reached into a basket, pulled out a map, and spread it on the table. Plunking down a finger, he pointed to Landros. “We spotted his army moving north several days ago, slowly making its way to the northwest. At first, we thought he was moving to reinforce Keihl, but then he started surrounding and attacking villages in his path. I have no idea why. This gains nothing except spreading fear into his own people.”

“I don’t understand his motives either,” Gall replied. He studied the map for a moment before looking up at Nikolas. “Why did you think he was moving to reinforce Keihl?”

“There have been many Nagun raids near Keihl, so many that the governor no longer lets patrols go far from the city. A request for help has been sent to the King, but he has not replied. Yet his army is still heading in that general direction.”

Gall grinned. “You’ve been reading the King’s mail, haven’t you?”

Nikolas smirked, then tapped his eyepatch. “Better to have ears than eyes, sometimes.”

Britta stared at the map. Keihl lay in the northeast corner, next to lines indicating passes leading through the Black Shadow Mountains into northern Drachnor. “I find it interesting that the Nagun are raiding near the passes in the north as they were in the south.”

Gall looked at her. “So do I, but it is unlikely the Drachnorians would risk crossing the northern passes to attack Keihl. More likely, Faline stirred up the Nagun to pull the Bretagnians north, away from Knife Edge Pass.”

“But that pass is now closed,” Britta quickly answered.

“True. But for now, we must focus on Edwyn and his actions.” He looked back at the map and scratched his chin. “Moving toward Keihl makes sense, but the attacks do not. What is he trying to accomplish?”

“He surrounds the villages, storms them, parades captives, selects some for interrogation, then executes them. If it weren’t for the fact that some soldiers pitied the villagers, no one would survive. Even so, many innocents have died.”

“How are you getting information from Edwyn’s camp? What you’ve learned is quite detailed.”

“Lately, our information comes from deserters, couriers, and intercepted messages. However, I believe the most detailed information initially came from Duke Katun. He asked that I send for you.”

“Do you have any of the messages?” Gall asked. Nikolas reached into his tunic and produced a folded piece of parchment. He handed it to Gall, who scanned it quickly. “The handwriting is Katun’s. When did you last hear from him?”

“Several days ago,” Nikolas answered.

Britta interjected, “I am surprised Katun is doing this. He doesn’t seem to be the sort that would take such a risk.”

Gall clenched his jaw briefly. “Katun has a high sense of duty, compassion, and morality.” He turned to Nikolas, “We must find him and, if possible, reason with Edwyn.”

Nikolas pursed his lips. “I wish you luck, my friend, but I would not take the Princess if I were you. I do not know how Edwyn would react if you show up with her at your side.”

Gall smiled. “Do not worry. I have a plan.”