Pawn of dragons, p.1
Pawn of Dragons, page 1
Pawn of dragons
Kingdoms & the Elves #3
By
ROBERT STANEK
This is a work of fiction. All the characters, names, places and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual locale, person or event is entirely coincidental.
Pawn of Dragons
(Kingdoms & the Elves
of the Reaches: Book Three)
Copyright © 2013 by Robert Stanek.
All rights reserved. Originally printed in the United States.
REAGENT PRESS
www.reagentpress.com
Table Of Contents
CHAPTER ONE: UNTO THE WINDS
CHAPTER TWO: THE LONG ROAD
CHAPTER THREE: AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY
CHAPTER FOUR: RETURN TO IMTAL
CHAPTER FIVE: UNEXPECTED COMPETITIONS
CHAPTER SIX: A FITFUL TRANSITION
CHAPTER SEVEN: THE AWAKENING
CHAPTER EIGHT: PHANTOMS OF THE PAST
CHAPTER NINE: AGAINST THE ODDS
CHAPTER TEN: A STRANGENESS IN THE AIR
CHAPTER ELEVEN: GALAN’S WORLD
CHAPTER TWELVE: KING’S MATE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE HIGH COUNCIL
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: A LONELY PATH
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE FINAL GAME
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: ACROSS THE DISTANCE
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE FINAL TRUTH
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: DREAMS OF TOMORROW
Chapter One:
Unto the Winds
Adrina shivered uncontrollably, and the more she shivered, the more she cried. She cried because she felt so desperately alone and because she felt utterly responsible for all that had happened. She, after all, had been the one who longed for change, and change had come in the form of a dark storm that threatened to sweep away everything she cared for and everything her family had worked so hard to maintain over these many past years.
As she looked on, the carriage master turned onto the main thoroughfare of the East–West Road and for a fleeting moment as the carriage mounted a small hill, she caught a last glimpse of the West Deep off in the distance. The waters, deep blue and ever tranquil, seemed to be calling out to her, “Don’t leave. Stay.”
She did long to stay but she couldn’t have made and kept her promise to Rudden Klaiveson even if she had wanted. Her heart and thoughts were miles away, lost in secret thoughts of the elves Seth and Galan. And though Rudden and his family had opened their hearts to her, she could not open her heart to them. Klaive was not Imtal, and it was not, nor would it ever be, her home. She was confident of this as she was of no other thing.
Still, the past two weeks in Klaive hadn’t been all bad, and she had Valam to thank for urging her to change her mind and temporarily postpone her return to Imtal. Just as the baron, baroness and their son had been, the people of Klaive had been kind to her. They came to the streets to greet her and Rudden whenever they left Klaive Keep. Gentlemen would remove their hats and bow. Ladies in the flowing dress of the day would offer flowers and children would chase after them laughing through the streets.
Adrina smiled, and wiped tears from her eyes. She leaned her head out the window, turning to look back at Klaive, half expecting to see Rudden chasing the carriage and her entourage. But Rudden was nowhere to be seen along the long dusty road, and it was just as well for Adrina had broken his heart, though it had not been her intent.
She switched to the carriage seat opposite her and removed the cover from the painting the Baron had commissioned of her and Rudden. In the picture, Rudden had a broad smile and he held her hand. She remembered the warmth of his hands in hers and smiled. It had taken several days for the painter to complete his work and many long, quiet hours of standing and holding hands.
Her leaving Klaive without allowing the Baron to publicly announce the betrothal had been a betrayal of the unspoken promise her presence spoke of. She disgraced Rudden’s family to be sure, but the thing she couldn’t forget or forgive herself for was the hurt she caused Rudden. She could see the anguish and pain in his eyes clearly, even now, and unexpectedly, her heart and eyes mirrored that anguish and that pain, and it was the source of the emptiness she felt.
In her mind’s eye, she saw her mother, Queen Alexandria, nodding, giving silent approval to the idea that swept in from the corners of her mind. She laughed, and the laughter was almost healing. She moved the curtains aside from the coachman’s window, speaking quietly to the waiting attendant.
The coached turned. The riders in her entourage followed. She smiled.
* * *
“Ahoy, the Mouth of the World!” screamed the lookout.
The call was quickly relayed throughout the whole of the Scarlet Hawk, followed by a call of “Down the main sails! Oarsmen to the ready!” from the ship’s captain.
Vilmos avoided the tangle of sailors amidships and raced to the bow. He and Xith had left the seaside town of Eragol the previous day and the Mouth of the World, a natural river cave that cut under the Rift Range near Jrenn, was their destination.
He swallowed a heart-sized lump in his throat when ahead in the distance he saw only ice-capped mountains on both sides of the river. As he looked on, a small dark space within the gray stone of the mountain seemed to grow and grow until the darkness was a thing that seemed would swallow the whole of the ship, and indeed it did, just as the captain called out, “Lanterns, fore and aft!”
Lanterns soon cast a dull glow into the darkness. No light reflected back to say that the rocks were close around them—or to say that anything was close around them for that matter. Everything seemed dead calm and just as the ship seemed to stand still in space and time, Vilmos heard the low thumping of the pacekeeper’s drum. The oarsmen struck their oars. The Scarlet Hawk lurched forward. Soon the rowing became a smooth seesaw that hinted of movement and progress through the darkness.
“Vilmos, come away from the bow!” yelled Xith. “You don’t want to be standing there.”
Vilmos gripped the staff Xith had given him in Quashan’. “Is it always this dark here?”
“Sometimes darker,” replied Xith. “Sometimes it is a place that resembles its namesake more so than any would like.” Xith didn’t give Vilmos a chance to reply as he led the boy below deck. “Gather your belongings quickly. We won’t have much time once the ship is docked to get passage across the river to Jrenn.”
Vilmos took to the task of packing without complaint. He wouldn’t miss the Scarlet Hawk or the bucket that had been a constant companion during the journey. He knew he didn’t have sea legs. Still, the voyage was his first and the open river was truly a remarkable place.
He and Xith had made many stops on their journey north to Eragol. He had seen Mir, Veter, Klaive, Heman and many sights in between. The shaman had been secretive of most of his activities and he was learning not to ask too many questions. Still his mind filled with questions—oh so many questions—and it seemed he would never get answers.
As he packed he thought about Efryadde, whose path Xith said he followed as a human mage in training. He knew of Efryadde from the Great Book, and what little he knew troubled him. The darkness had overtaken Efryadde, and in the end those he trusted most had betrayed him.
Calls went up from the crew as the Scarlet Hawk came to a full stop. He looked up from his task to find Xith regarding him. “To Jrenn and then to Solntse?” he asked.
Xith nodded and led the way to the top deck. “Stand close now, we have to move fast if we are to get across the river today.”
As the two emerged from below, Vilmos’ eyes lit with wonder at the sight of lanterns spreading out in every direction, revealing the outline of enormous docks and many ships in the port. He shouldered his bags and gripped his staff tightly. Lanterns overhead, suspended in the darkness by unseen ropes, lit their way along the docks.
All around them sailors, merchants and travelers hurried about their business. Everyone, Xith included, moved with a sense of purpose, seemingly oblivious to the fact that just beyond the shrouded yellow of the lanterns lay absolute darkness. Vilmos practically had to run to keep up with the shaman, and he did so with a sense of urgency because he didn’t want to lose Xith in this crowd, in this place.
As they reached the long straight run that led to the innermost section of the docks, Vilmos stopped. Ahead of him, no more than a hundred paces away, was open water, and across the open water was a city in the center of the docks. This journey with Xith had opened his eyes to the wonders of the world, but none was as grand as the sight of the floating city ahead.
From this distance he could see the gentle swaying of the water as it rippled beneath the city, and in the dark waters ahead, rowboats, whose paths were lit by a single lantern suspended from a tall pole aft, moved back and forth like carriages following unseen roads.
Xith hurried toward a line of rowboats at the end of one of the docks and Vilmos truly did have to run to catch up. For the sum of two coppers an oarsman took Xith and Vilmos to the inner docks of Jrenn.
The inner docks were very different from those used by the large sailing boats. They were low to the water and lined with tiny piers that made it easy to dock small boats, such as the rowboat they were in, anywhere along the floating circle of the city. The trick, however, was to find a section of pier that was unoccupied, and this turned out to be more of a problem than Vilmos imagined.
Xith solved the problem by giving the oarsman two more pieces of copp er, immediately after which the oarsman docked and bid the two farewell.
* * *
“Until spring then,” said Adrina turning back to the carriage.
Rudden smiled and kissed her hand before he let go. “Until spring.”
She regarded Rudden, saying nothing more. Behind him, on the balcony overlooking the keep’s courtyard, she saw the baron and baroness.
The baron stood still and there was a slight smile playing on the corners of his lips. The baroness’s right hand was touched to her cheek and there was delight in her eyes. But it was Rudden that she was focusing on.
It was as if she was seeing him for the first time as the man he was and not as the man everyone else wanted her to see. He was tall with fair hair that showed his heritage and bright eyes that seemed to ask questions of her even now. He was the same man that had traveled all the way to Imtal just to meet her and then rushed to Quashan’ to bring supplies to the beleaguered city after the battle Great Kingdom had nearly lost, but yet he wasn’t. Things had changed and her heart had changed—and it had all happened in space of a few heartbeats.
She turned away. The attendant helped her into the coach, closing the door behind her. The coachman took his position. The Knight Brigade, Klaive Keep’s most elite mounted horsemen, took to the saddle.
As the coach started out of the courtyard, she turned to look back. Rudden waved and she smiled more deeply. In her heart, she knew she had made the right decision. The journey from childhood to womanhood wasn’t an easy one, but she would undertake it—it may lead her to a place quite unexpected.
Chapter Two:
The Long Road
Emel spurred Ebony Lightning on and the great black stallion charged across the open field with a speed that few other horses could match. As a ranking member of his father’s company, he had more responsibilities than ever before in his life and none so important as the safekeeping of the elves who accompanied the battle-weary group of Kingdomers as they returned to Imtal.
He cursed low under his breath as he urged Ebony to even greater speeds, vowing to Great Father that he would find the truth of the matter before him no matter the cost. On the return trek, his father, Ansh Brodst, King’s Knight Captain, had opted to take the faster, more dangerous route north. They took the Old Kingdom road through Moeck, skirting the Belyj Forest, Fraddylwicke Swamp and the Dead Sea, braving the Cliffs of D’Arndynne in rains that had swept far braver men into the sea and from this world.
But they braved and surpassed the deadly cliffs without mishap, and it was within the lands of Fraddylwicke that the trouble had occurred. At first, the onlookers had been curious, to be truthful, and so no one could have foreseen what was to come. Still, there was little excuse for failure and absolutely no excuse for forgetting one’s ancestry.
Ancestry in a place such as Fraddylwicke was everything. For it was here, in lands as harsh and desolate as any found in the whole of the kingdoms, that the Blood Soldiers had been born and here that thousands upon thousands had died defending a stretch of land whose only value was in the boundaries that its borders represented.
Dnyarr the Greye, the last great Elven King, had laid siege to Fraddylwicke Castle two times during the Race Wars in his attempt to gain the southlands. The first siege lasted over one hundred years, which wasn’t enough time for young elves to grow to maturity but lasted generations for the men who defended the fields with their blood and their lives. Yet, if such a thing was unimaginably horrible to endure for those who served, could one possibly imagine a thousand years of such existence, as was the case of the last great siege?
Or could one doubt without any certainty that after the final victory in the fields around Fraddylwicke that those who survived were no longer what they once were? So when the victorious sought to rule the lands of Man, it should have been no surprise that divided kingdoms united against them and their allies, pushing them back to the dark corners of the world and, ultimately, leaving them forgotten like the past from which they came.
Emel Brodstson never should have forgotten this and his father, Ansh Brodst, shouldn’t have either. For the blood in their veins was that of those who Emel now eyed with a murderous rage as he chased them across the sodden field. Yet a distant kinship didn’t stop his sword arm or cause him to slow Ebony’s thunder as he ran down the last of the attackers.
By the time he returned to the company, the berserker rage in his blood had passed, but its short presence within had changed him in ways that he later would not be able to explain. In a way, it made him less human, less a man—but someone who could separate himself from his feelings and find only the burning rage within could never see this. It would only be apparent later, much later, to those who knew him before this pilot light of rage was ignited.
* * *
Vilmos awoke suddenly in the darkness, staring about the strangely shaped room as it shifted with the movement of the water beneath the floating city. He and Xith had not made it out of Jrenn the previous day and had rented a room at an inn instead. Now he was alone in the darkness and Xith was nowhere to be seen—or was he?
Vilmos stood and walked to the far corner of the room where there was an alcove. He moved quietly and carefully. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the glowing orb the shaman held in his outstretched hands. He saw images flash by in the orb as if the shaman was looking for a thing he could not find.
The shaman’s face, lit dully by the glow of the orb, reflected frustration, and he was muttering to himself. “Step aside; move about so that I may see.”
Vilmos leaned on his haunches, taking the weight off his feet. The flash of images was hypnotic and as he looked on, it was as if he was being drawn into the orb. Soon it seemed he was standing within the glow of the orb itself and the images of the world—vivid and real—were before him.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and waited. When he opened his eyes again, hoping that he would be standing in the room of the inn, he instead found that nothing had changed. Large as life images still played before his eyes—and even more strange, the images called to him.
Stunned panic set in. He forced himself to rip his eyes away from the hypnotic flash. It was then that he knew for sure he was indeed standing
within the orb. His heart started racing. He twisted his head back and forth like a trapped animal. He was about to take a step backward, away from the flashing world, when a strong hand firmly clasped his right elbow.
He turned and saw Xith standing beside him.
“Don’t move,” said the shaman. “Dangerous, often lethal, to do so.”
“Where are we?”
“You mean, where are you? I just followed as you were drawn into the orb. Doesn’t happen often mind you, but it does happen. You were drawn into the orb for a reason.”
“Is this a part of the training? You said the training was to begin.”
“Vilmos, my boy, your education is never-ending and always ongoing.” Xith laughed, a fleeting laugh. His expression became dark and serious. “Dnyarr’s orb is one of the greatest powers in all the realms. I don’t pretend to understand, understanding is beyond the likes of those of this world. I only know what I can do with it and what others before me have done with it.”
Vilmos took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. “Why does it want me?”
“Why indeed,” said Xith. “Why indeed. I should like to think it has something to do with our present course—”
Xith stopped abruptly as the glow of the orb around them disappeared and the scene before them exploded to life as never before. The two raced through a great forest, and as they raced onward the mountains in the distance grew ever closer.
Soon the air around them grew cold as snow-capped peaks raced beneath their feet. In the distance now, they could see a swarm of flying beasts in the sky.
“Dragons?” cried out Vilmos as they raced into the midst of a raging battle.
