Dragon Dawn Read online

  “We shall deal with this as speedily as may be,” Gydrid said, making his decision sound firm. “I want the men in battle order. Triple the scouting parties. Have them ride in search of Lady Analise.”

  “At once, m’lord!”

  Gydrid nodded and put away his book. There would be time for study once this little matter was dealt with.

  Captain Dorjan chose his scouts and sent them out in search of trouble. Gydrid led his men, in battle order now, toward Chaidren Ridge. Chaidren was a small keep compared to many, but its history was long and honourable. Analise’s family had ever been loyal to the throne. In times past, they had provided the King with guardsmen. More than one son of Chaidren had made a name for himself in the King’s service. At the crossroad, Gydrid led his men to the east without pause. Although he was now travelling away from Devarr and his duty to his father, he was light of heart. The day was beautiful with birdsong and the fragrance of wildflowers heavy in the air. The day had fulfilled the morning’s promise.

  The village of Chambry quickly arrived, and Gydrid stopped to water the horses and ask for news. The scouts had not returned, and would not until they found Lady Analise. Dorjan had made it plain to them that time was of the essence. They were not to waste the candlemarks it would take to report failure.

  Gydrid handed his reins to one of the men and looked around. Chambry was a small village; it consisted of perhaps half a hundred homes. The single inn, like the village, was small but well cared for. The homes had white painted shutters in good repair, and the thatched roofs looked tight. There were few people about, but those that he did see seemed friendly. Gydrid and his men were standing within a small paved square that served the village as its marketplace. The inn and its stable fronted the square on one side with the chapel opposite. No one had yet come to greet him, but perhaps the village was too small for a council. He was debating whether the innkeeper had news of Lady Analise or not, when the chapel caught his eye again. Maybe the village priest knew something. He left his men to deal with watering the horses, while he made his way to visit the priest.

  The chapel was an old building. He could see that by the manner of its construction. The roof slates were thick and heavy, while its windows were small and narrow. They were more reminiscent of a castle’s arrow slits than a modern chapel’s casement. From his studies, Gydrid knew the Founders had met many challenges when they first settled Deva. Buildings of rough stone like this were built as refuges from the many dangers that had awaited them in the world.

  A hush fell over him as he entered the chapel. The heavy wooden doors were wide letting in the light of the day, but the sun’s rays did not penetrate the gloom more than a few paces. Dozens of candles made up for the lack, and the air was redolent with the pleasant smell of hot tallow.

  Gydrid peered into the gloom, and gradually his eyes accustomed themselves to the dim interior of the chapel. The place seemed empty. He stopped a short distance inside and regarded the chapel’s adornments. There were some fine pieces of woodcraft here. The centrepiece was a wooden carving of the God sitting upon the stump of a tree. Gathered about his feet were dozens of children. Gydrid could almost imagine he heard the God’s voice as he told the young ones a story. He reached out and stroked the silky smooth wood.

  “Lovely is it not? We are very proud of it.”

  Gydrid nodded. He had heard the priest approaching at his back. “Yes, good father. It speaks to me.”

  “Hmmm.” The priest smiled. “Many have said the same. It is very old you know. Easily as old as the chapel itself.”

  “Really? That is interesting. I judge the chapel dates to the Founding.”

  “It does. I have some few writings penned by my predecessors intimating as much. It has been here through all that time.”

  Gydrid pulled his attention reluctantly away from the carving and turned to the priest. “I am Gydrid of Meilan.”

  The priest inclined his head in greeting. “Welcome, m’lord. I am Father Rolfe. How may I serve you, my lord?”

  “I have heard the news of Lord Garth’s death. I would hear more if you no aught of it.”

  “Sad news. Yes, we have heard of the lord’s death. I fear that I can shed no light on the circumstances, except for what Lady Analise herself has spoken of to me.”

  “You have seen her then? That is good news. When did she pass, and whence was she going?”

  “Three days ago, my lord. She stopped to water the horses and came here to pray a while. As for her destination, I know not, except that she headed south and east. She herself told me that she did not know where she was going. She means to run down her father’s murderer.”

  Gydrid nodded. “I had heard that such was her intention. I mean to aid her in that, but first I must find her.”

  “That is good of you, my lord. May the God smile on you and your men.”

  Gydrid circled his heart and inclined his head in thanks for the blessing. “I must make haste if I am to overtake the lady. I thank you for the good wishes.” He took a last lingering look at the carvings then turned to rejoin his men.

  Captain Dorjan had things well in hand. The horses had been watered and the men were topping off their waterbags. Gydrid thought to do the same, but was saved the necessity when Ethan mentioned that he had already performed that little chore.

  “Did you learn of Lady Analise’s whereabouts, my lord?” Dorjan said as he rejoined him.

  “Not precisely, no. She rode through here heading south and east three days back.”

  “Three days? That is not good, my lord. The King will not be pleased with us if we arrive so late.”

  Dorjan was right, but Gydrid could not leave knowing what he did. “Send Ethan and one other to the King with a message. Have him tell my father what we are about, and that we shall arrive as quickly as may be.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Dorjan said and strode away to arrange Ethan’s departure.

  Gydrid mounted his horse and edged toward the south exit of the square. Gylaren would understand when he heard the reason for his lateness. As the King’s ward, lady Analise deserved his protection. Who better than his son to provide it?

  “At the walk… forward!” Gydrid ordered and urged his mount out of the square.

  * * *

  8 ~ King's Ward

  Analise waved the dust away and sipped her water. The day had dawned hot, and it promised to become hotter still. She sipped her water in silence.

  Captain Ballard was tending to his men. He had hardly spoken two words to her on their journey thus far. He was trying to punish her with his silence all the while not knowing that she had no wish for converse. She wanted silence to think. It was something she was unlikely to have in her future. Lord Llewyd was a bore and a noisy one by all accounts. He had no love for the gardens as she did, nor did he read. His only passion was hunting, swordplay, and—if rumour proved true—bedding the local peasant women. Analise shuddered at the thought of marrying such a man, but there seemed no way out. Chaidren Ridge was her responsibility. She had no confidence in her mother’s ability to cope. No, she must marry Llewyd and secure her home for her family.

  She wandered off the road and onto the colour filled verges. Wild flowers carpeted the ground in all directions. Perfume erupted into the air as she walked. She stooped to pick the nicest blooms until she had a fistful of spring.

  “My lady, it’s time to move on,” Ballard called.

  Analise nodded and buried her face in her bouquet. She inhaled the sweet scent before walking briskly to her horse. “Why can we not find them?” she said as she settled into the saddle and urged her horse to walk on. “Why?”

  “I cannot say. They may have moved on, they may be hiding from us, or they may be around the next bend in the road. Whichever it is, we will find them.”

  “Send out more scouts.”

  “That would be unwise. We have too few men with us now as it is.”

  Analise glared. “Send them!”

  Balla
rd’s lips tightened but he turned and gave the order. Another dozen men left the column and split into six scouting teams.

  Analise watched them go and frowned in displeasure. They had almost sixty men scouting now—almost a third of her force hunting for at most fifty brigands, yet they had not found them. Why?

  “Tell me again how he died,” Analise said.

  “My lady, what good does it do to dwell on the past? You should consider the future.”

  “My future was set the moment my father was slain. I have no wish to think about it. I want to know where my father’s murderers are. Did you see the leader?”

  Ballard sighed. “I cannot be sure, but I believe so.”

  “Tell me again how he killed my father.”

  “We were riding toward our usual camping place when your father was taken out of the saddle—”

  “Was he the only one killed by arrow?”

  “No. There were many.”

  “But he fell first,” she pressed.

  “Yes. I told you that before.”

  “The leader knew him then. Either that or he was very lucky. Which is it?”

  Ballard frowned. “The shot was long. It was skill, not luck.”

  “Then my father was not simply slain. He was assassinated.”

  “They were brigands, lady, only brigands. They were not assassins.”

  Analise scowled. She did not want them to be merely brigands. She wanted her father’s death to have meaning, a part of some obscure plot or threat to the kingdom. He deserved that. He deserved more than an ignominious death at the hands of a mere brigand.

  “He was struck first because of who he was. You agree?”

  Ballard nodded reluctantly. “It would seem likely, but he and I were in the lead. We were obvious targets.”

  “But you were not struck,” she said accusingly.

  Ballard’s eyes narrowed in pain. “If only it had been so. By the narrowest of margins, I survived and my lord did not. How I wish it were not so.”

  Conversation lapsed again.

  Analise rode in brooding silence. Her hands of their own accord worried at the petals of her flowers until all the beauty was gone. What remained was ruination. The sad looking mess reminded her of her life. How could she live knowing that every morning she would awake beside Llewyd? How could she look at that face each morning knowing she had no love for him and never would? And what about the evenings and... and the nights? She shied away from the thought of giving herself to Llewyd, but it would be her duty as his consort. More, it was her duty to her father and his line to provide an heir to hold Chaidren Ridge.

  “Look there.” Ballard pointed. “Riders coming in.”

  Analise peered ahead. “Are they ours? Can you see?”

  “I do not believe so.” Ballard turned to look back at his men. “Ernan!”

  “Sir?”

  “Take some men and see what that lot are about.”

  “Bring them to me,” Analise added before Ernan could leave.

  Ernan’s eyes flicked to Ballard and he received the tiniest of nods. “At once, m’lady!”

  Ernan turned his horse to ride back a short way. A few words were exchanged and a strong detachment of guardsmen joined him to escort the strangers back.

  “Not ours and not brigands. Then to whom do they belong?” Analise murmured.

  “We will soon know, lady. Have patience.”

  Analise sat still and waited for the strangers to be challenged. She could not make out details, but they were wearing good armour. There were four, all on strong warhorses. At least that showed them to be honest guardsmen. No raider or brigand ever rode such fine beasts as these.

  “A powerful lord to equip his men thus,” Analise murmured.

  “That was my thought also. Might they be Lord Llewyd’s men?”

  “It might explain why our scouts allowed them to venture this close, but did he not leave for Devarr already?”

  Ballard nodded thoughtfully. “That was the news we received, my lady. Mayhap he heard of your father’s death and sent these men to escort you to him.”

  Analise ignored that. She watched her men converse with the newcomers and then ride back toward her.

  The leader of the newcomers stopped a little ahead of his men, and Analise addressed herself to him. “Well met, good sir. Where bound?”

  The leader of the group, a sergeant by the chevrons displayed on his chest, bowed in the saddle and said, “We were ordered to find you, lady.”

  “Were you? Which lord?”

  “Lord Gydrid of Meilan, my lady,” the sergeant said touching the emblem upon his chest. The hawk of Meilan was displayed there above the chevrons. “I am ordered to escort you to m’lord, please you. He wants to see you, lady.”

  “Does he indeed?” The sergeant nodded. “And if I do not wish to be escorted?”

  “Then I am to say that he’ll execute the brigands without you, lady, and be on his way to Devarr and the King.”

  Analise’s eyes blazed. “How dare he, and how dare you!”

  The sergeant looked distressed to have caused her anger, but he was adamant regarding his orders as his next words proved. “I follow m’lord’s orders, lady. Will you come?”

  Analise fumed. “A moment.” Gydrid’s man withdrew a short space to give her privacy. She kept her voice low. “How could he find them so soon? We have searched for days with no sign of them.”

  Ballard shook his head gently. “I have heard it said that Gydrid is more scholar than lord. He shuns the manly arts in favour of books and tricky puzzles that turn all sense on its head. He’s not known for his ability in war.”

  “Not known for it, but his ability is obviously greater than yours,” Analise said spitefully. She beckoned Gydrid’s sergeant. “Take us to your lord.”

  The sergeant bowed in the saddle and led off down the road toward Ellwood Crossing. Analise urged her horse to follow and with her movement, the column got underway.

  Lord Gydrid, as it turned out, was camped when Analise met him the next day. There were hours of daylight left, yet he had encamped! She scowled. It seemed her captain’s estimation of Gydrid’s abilities was correct. At least his guardsmen were alert. The moment she and her men appeared on the road, a shout went up from those on watch, and the camp erupted as guardsmen armed themselves and fell in.

  Captain Ballard nodded with approval. “They’re good.”

  “Obviously,” Analise said snidely. “Everyone knows that about the Four.”

  “Knowing it and seeing it are different things. See there?”

  Analise glanced at the verge. “I see nothing but trees.”

  “Scouts. They have shadowed us for the last few candlemarks.”

  Analise started and looked harder. She still saw nothing. The scouts, if scouts there were, must be akin to foresters to hide themselves so well.

  Captain Ballard directed his men to dismount to one side of Gydrid’s encampment. He was about to order the tents set when Analise ordered that they not camp. She was here to see an execution, not socialise with outsiders. Ballard nodded, though he obviously disagreed. He ordered the men to rest while they could.

  A guardsman, a captain by his sash, strode out of the camp flanked by two other men. Where was Gydrid? Was he slighting her and Chaidren for some reason—what reason? Her escort met the captain half way and reported. The captain listened then gestured them into the camp. The sergeant saluted and led his friends safely back into anonymity.

  Gydrid’s captain bowed to her. “Welcome, lady. I am Over Captain Dorjan.”

  “Where are my father’s murderers?” Analise asked.

  “That is for my lord to say, lady.”

  “Where is he then? Is he too much the coward to face me that he must send you in his stead?”

  Dorjan’s eyes blazed at the insult to his lord. “I will take you to him, lady,” he said with a calculated look at Ballard. “I would advise you to curb your anger and your tongue with my lord.�
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  “Indeed?” Analise said, straightening in affront. “And why pray?”

  “My lord is known for his quick wits. You will not gain through anger and harsh words.”

  Analise fumed as the man led her through the camp. Gydrid’s men had settled to chores once more and seemed to have no intention of moving again this day. At no point did she see her father’s murderers, or any place they might be held. The thought that Gydrid had executed them already made her even angrier.

  * * *

  Gydrid bent to examine the flower. “You’re right again, Garvan. It is a variety of Maiden’s Blush. Hmmm, I wonder why it has only five petals and not six.”

  “I don’t know, m’lord, but I’ve seen this ’un afore.”

  “Where was that?” Gydrid knelt and pulled out his sketchbook. With speed and skill, he drew the flower in exact detail. He shaded the drawing to reproduce the shadows the sun cast, and then named the bloom in a precise hand.

  “Near the pass, m’lord. My brother and me used to go up there when we were little. This ’ere flower was mixed in with the rest. There never was many of ’em.”

  “Lend me an arrow would you?” The shaft arrived in his palm without him needing to look up. With a hard twist and pull, he broke the head off and placed it beside the flower. “That should work don’t you think?”

  “For size m’lord?”

  “That’s it. I shall quickly draw the arrow head,” he said as his hand sped over the page. “Then later I can always tell how big this flower was.”

  “Good idea, m’lord. You should keep the arrow—if you don’t mind me saying, m’lord.”

  “Hmmm? Oh no, not at all. I don’t mind…” Gydrid frowned. “Do you know, I think this might be a clue to something that has been puzzling me for some time?”

  “Only I was thinking, m’lord. I might need my other arrows at the war.”