Exiles From The Sacred Land (Book 2) (21 page)

“No need to be so formal here, scout,” the officer said. “Where in the seven shards of Venifyre did you come from? You have obviously not been here for the last six seasons if you are still following protocol.”

“Sir? Protocol is no longer being observed in this camp?”

He eyed Ganas for a long moment, sizing him up. “Are you some kind of spy, Ganas Nashe? Did Jac send you here?”

“I am sorry, sir. I don’t know any Jac. I am not a spy, and you are correct—I have not been here for the past six seasons. I was sent here by Morgoran and Ianthill.” He left out Theosus and King Amarantus. He was not sure how they would feel about dragons sending him.

The men began to murmur, and the officer waved his hand for them to remain silent. “Morgoran Cleareyes? I was not aware he was able to send anyone. The last I heard, he was in the Vale of Morgoran, a stark-raving madman.”

“The curse was lifted. He is aware of what happened to this army, and he has sent me to assess the situation and see if we can find a way to return you to Symboria. Naneden has taken and occupied Lux Enor. He controls all of southern Symboria and the Sacred Land.”

“Of course he does. We were supposed to stop him, but instead, we are here. What does Morgoran propose he can do about it?”

“I am not privy to that information, sir, I am only a scout. I do have a message for General Rellagorn.”

“Well, scout, it seems you are too late. The general is dead, killed by his own traitorous men four full moons after we were stuck here. For the last two full moons, these men and I have remained in this camp while the rest of the army seized control of Anisport, the most populated nearby city.”

“Murdered how?”

“We were stuck here without a train of supplies. The food ran out a couple of full moons after we arrived. Hunting parties kept
us stocked with food for another full moon; however, the people of Anisport didn’t care much for us being here, and they certainly did not like us encroaching on their game, and later, on their fish when we started fishing the stream and the waters near their city. They were extremely nervous that an army of foreigners were camped so close. They asked us to find food and water elsewhere. General Rellagorn tried to explain our presence here, but the city elders did not care. Some of the men were outraged when General Rellagorn gave the order to pull up stakes. The men felt we should stay close to the coast for rescue. To get to the point, an officer named Jac Wills killed the general and took control of the army. We left while they planned the invasion of Anisport. After the deed was done, we returned here with Jac’s blessing, since there is nowhere else we can go without the locals wanting us dead. Of late, we have been getting reports that Jac is becoming restless and he wants us to either join him or die. We also hear that the king of Denogia is planning to send his army here to oust ours. It seems reports have reached his ears of the brutality of the invasion.”

Ganas was dumbfounded. “This is all that remains loyal to the highlord’s army?”

“It is. The highlord’s throne is empty, or was when we left. Jac used that fact to convince the men that they were no longer bound by their oaths. You cannot serve and protect a non-existent highlord, after all.”

“The throne is still empty. Naneden will never be crowned!”

“Why hasn’t the Silver Drake selected a new one?”

“The Silver Drake is missing, stolen; no one knows where she is.”

The officer chuckled. “Looks to me like Naneden will take the throne whether crowned or not.”

“It was hoped that after I found this army, I could discover a way to return you to Symboria and get rid of Naneden.”

“Not likely. You see, Drasmyd Duil and Dramyds miraculously showed up and helped Jac seize Anisport; they infest the city now. The rest of the army acts as if they are under some kind of spell. Friends I have known since I was a young boy do not even recognize me. It is my belief that the men you see here are somehow immune to the spell, and that is why we are now a threat to Jac. It’s only a matter of time before they send for us. You are in danger here. You should leave while you can. This army is more than just missing from Symboria. It is forever lost!”

Tatrice was horrified. She started rubbing the imprint as if it would simply come off. “What do we do, Shadesilver? I can’t be married to Bren.”

“Thanks for that. Bren said.

“I don’t mean it that way. You are a wonderful man. I just can’t be married because of Dorenn.”

Shadesilver shrugged. “You aren’t betrothed to him, are you? What does it hurt?”

“Shadesilver!” Tatrice was surprised she would say such a thing. “No, we are not betrothed, but it is understood, I think.”

“There is no such thing as getting unmarried here in this part of the world. Couples separate sometimes but remain married until one of them dies. Hmm, I wonder if that’s why they go to war so easily,” Shadesilver mused.

“We aren’t from here,” Tatrice pointed out. “Is there a way?”

“Of course, you two didn’t have a clue what you were doing. Technically, the imprints signify you are married, but since you didn’t know what you were consenting to, I am sure they will remove them and you can go back to the way you were. We will go back to the place you were married in the morning and explain it to them.”

Tatrice awoke the next morning to the sound of a male voice, and also Shadesilver’s voice. Normally it would not have startled her awake, but this male voice sounded angry. As soon as she became fully awake, she realized the male voice was Morgoran, and she could guess what he was angry about. She got out of bed and hastily got dressed. She tied up her hair and made herself look presentable before entering the adjacent inn room where Shadesilver, Bren, and Morgoran sat at a small round table. Morgoran looked up at her and then averted his eyes back to his cup of bittering tea. Tatrice could feel her anger begin to surface. “It was an accident, Morgoran, you don’t have any right—”

“An accident!” He stood from the table, his blue robes catching his chair and pulling it over onto the floor with a thud. “How in the seven shards do you accidentally get married?” After the outburst, Bren stood up to intercept Morgoran, but Morgoran boldly pushed him back down in his chair. “You can remain seated . . .
broodlord
.”

Tatrice did not miss the sarcasm—broodlord meaning protector of a family of dragons. “Didn’t Shadesilver explain? We are going back to the people who performed the ritual and having it annulled.”

Morgoran picked his chair off the floor and set it upright. “There is no such thing—marriage here is forever. The concept of breaking the bond is paramount to blasphemy of the gods here. If you go out talking of breaking the bond, they will run you out of town or throw you in stocks as a harlot, or worse, outsider or not.”

Tatrice felt her legs go weak under her but recovered her resolve quickly. “There has to be a way.” She looked around the room and noticed Dorenn was not with them. He must have heard.

“There is a way; there is always a way,” Morgoran said. “But there is no way here, now. You two will have to stay married for a while. I have to get Dorenn to the Isle of Doom; that’s first priority. This little diversion will just have to wait until we can get to a point to contact Kerad; only a cleric or priest of Loracia can magically remove the imprints.”

“What about Vesperin, then?” Tatrice asked. “Is he with Dorenn right now?”

Morgoran sat back in the chair and took a sip of his bittering tea. “Aye, he is here with Dorenn, but I hesitate to ask him. I am not even certain he has ever performed anything like this, and he is Dorenn’s friend.”

“He’s my friend too. I need to talk to Dorenn and—”

“Oh, no, you don’t. Vesperin is working right now to make sure Dorenn doesn’t find out about this just yet. Shadesilver had the sense not to divulge it in front of him.”

Tatrice was relieved. “I understand now. I thought Dorenn knew.”

“In his current condition, I don’t think that would be wise at all.” He took another drink of his bittering tea. “I have not seen the ritual performed, but I understand it is somewhat lengthy. It isn’t just the magic; clerics always have to ask questions and make sure the dissolution of the marriage is what both parties want and need and what not. We simply do not have the time right now. I suggest you two stay away from each other and speak nothing of this until after we get Dorenn to the isle and cured first. Don’t act all suspicious, and Tatrice, don’t go looking all sad and melancholy when you are around Dorenn. Act as if nothing has happened; his very health depends on it.” He took the last drink of his bittering tea. “Now, let’s gather up your things, find Vesperin and Dorenn, and get to the ferry. The Isle of Doom isn’t far.”

“Morgoran, if Dorenn is too sick to wonder about Tatrice, why don’t we just let you take him to Rugania first and we will follow. If he asks about her, we can have her appear, but if he continues to think she has remained behind, why not just let him believe that?” Shadesilver suggested.

“No,” Tatrice spoke up. “I don’t have to tell him about the marriage, but I won’t leave him to go through this alone.”

“He isn’t alone,” Shadesilver reminded her. “He has Vesperin and Morgoran.”

“It isn’t the same. He—”

“I agree with Tatrice,” Morgoran interrupted. “If nothing else, she will help keep him calm. As long as we don’t mention the marriage, I think it will be better to have her.” He let his eyes wander to Bren. “On the other hand, Bren might be an irritant. Why don’t you and Bren remain here until I summon you, Shadesilver? I will send for you as soon as Dorenn is cured. That way, Bren is out of sight and out of mind.”

Tatrice thought he might have been just trying to separate her from Bren, but she agreed.

Bren looked as if he might say something, but Morgoran ended the conversation abruptly. “All right, that’s settled. Go and gather your things, Tatrice, and we will go find Vesperin and Dorenn.”

Chapter 13: Rugania: The Isle of Doom

Rugania, also known as the Isle of Doom by common folk, did not appear to Dorenn to be the horrific place its nickname indicated. When the old ferry finally came to rest at the dock, Dorenn was almost disappointed how new and vibrant the docks seemed. They were constructed of wood, but they must have been magically protected because they were very well maintained. The docks were covered with a canopy carved and crafted with precision.

“Morgoran,” Dorenn said, “did the elves build these?” He indicated the docks.

Morgoran was preparing to help tie off the ferry. He grabbed a thick rope and slung it on the docks. “Aye, the Siladil built them. Darovan is just across the Amarouan Sea there.” He pointed southwest. “Surprisingly, the sand elves can work wood pretty well.”

“Do they have wood in Darovan?” Vesperin asked.

“Certainly they do. Darovan isn’t all sand and desert. The northwestern lands have trees and even mountains.” Morgoran stopped Dorenn before he took another step. “The docks are fine, but I want to do one more check before we set foot on land, so don’t go running off.”

Melias stepped up. “The captain says he will return in one week’s time. He says he will leave here in about an hour.”

“That’s fine, Melias, you can tell him to shove off now if it suits him. We will be fine.”

Morgoran and the boys stepped onto the docks and headed for shore. Tatrice followed. Dorenn could feel the anticipation building within him. Just before the end of the docks, Morgoran made a few more incantations to check that all the preparations had been met before allowing everyone to set foot on the island.

“It must have worked,” Dorenn said after he stepped ashore. He fought the urge to run around in the grass in celebration before he realized he had not fought the urge at all and everyone was staring at him. “Sorry,” he said somberly. “I didn’t realize.”

“No harm, Dorenn, that’s why we’re here,” Morgoran said. He pointed to the pathway ahead. “Let’s get to it. The citadel is about a half hour walk. Erinthill and Brynna are expecting us.”