King's Vengeance (4 page)

Jerreb and Sendin met the charge, swerving right and left, switching weapon hands as needed, maneuvering their steeds as if they were part of them. Each cut down a foe, and now only four were left to deal with. Jerreb bent low and charged, holding his sword like a lance and skewering a savage like a hunk of beef. The man fell backward from his horse and Jerreb plucked out his sword and slashed at a plainsman who had wheeled around to strike him. As he slashed, he cut off the arm that was ineffectually wielding a chipped axe. The man screamed, and Jerreb slashed at his neck.

And then it was over. Only the sapient remained. The knights moved toward him, blood dripping from their blades. The sapient stood his ground and held out his hands in a curious fashion, his expression hard. A shrill scream sounded, and all three men turned to it. In the distance, the two riders who had led the savages on a desperate chase were picking themselves up from the ground. Their horse had collapsed under them.

The sapient turned back to the two knights and reached for his sword. Before it was halfway out of its scabbard, Jerreb's blade had pierced his chest. The sapient's jaw dropped and his face went white. Jerreb gave his blade a hard twist and then drew it out. The sapient gasped and fell from his horse. He was dead when he hit the ground.

“All in the wrist,” Jerreb said, looking to the sky. “Our lizard foes have vanished.”

“Good to know the cursed things can still die,” Sendin said.

They looked at the man and young woman slowly walking toward them. “Come on,” Jerreb said. “It's only right that we give these two the opportunity to thank us.”

“I wish we knew more about this dragon tamer,” Ellerick said to Ghendris as they walked along a crowded wooden quay toward a large merchant ship. “We've no idea what she looks like or what age she is. She could be as common as a milk maid or a serving wench.”

“Quarvik told me I'd find her. What more do you need?” Ghendris replied, his eyes going to a flock of seagulls gliding on a current of air to his right, just above the water's surface.

“I wish I had your confidence, Ghendris.”

“It's not so much confidence as a feeling in my gut. Call it faith if you like, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

When they came to the merchant ship, a four-masted vessel with the name
Wet Dreamer
painted on its bow, they stopped and gaped at its masts, which looked tall enough to scrape the clouds.

“Ever been on a sailing ship before?” Ghendris asked.

“Never.”

“Come on, then,” Ghendris said, and he stepped onto the gangplank that led to the main deck. A white-bearded man was standing there barking orders to a handful of crewmen, and Ghendris, figuring the man for the captain, waited until he was done and the crewmen had scurried off to secure rigging, sew patches in canvas sails, or do the hundred other tasks necessary to prepare a vessel for a long voyage. But before Ghendris could get a word out, the man turned to them straightaway and approached, limping in his worn boots. “I seen you two standing there,” he said, scowling through his thick white beard. “Who be you?”

“Name's Ghendris. This here's Ellerick of …”

“Usig,” Ellerick said.

“Knights, eh?” said the captain.

“No,” Ghendris corrected. “I'm no king's man. Just the little feller here. We were told by the innkeeper of the waterside inn that your vessel sails to the Isle of Kebriyu.”

“Twice each moon, and we're to set sail in five hours. What of it?”

“We'd like to take ship with you to Kebriyu, Captain …”

“Zellis.”

“We can pay our way.”

“We don't make it a business to haul loads that piss and fart, such as yourselves. She's a merchant ship, built for moving cargo.”

“How much coin would it take to get you to bend the rules?” asked Ghendris.

“To the sea phaemons with your coin,” Captain Zellis said. “Be off my ship unless you're here to lend muscle.”

Ghendris took a look around the deck and saw a scraggly bunch of youths moving about. “In need of able bodies are you? Let us join your crew.”

Captain Zellis squinted at Ellerick and frowned.

“I'll more than make up for anything he lacks,” Ghendris said.

The captain looked Ghendris up and down, studying his legs, arms, and chest. “All right. But you'll do as I say, and when I say.”

“Fair enough,” said Ghendris. “Where are the crew quarters?”

“You're standing on 'em,” Captain Zellis replied. “Storage only below decks, so there's no room for cargo. Here's where you'll piss and fart with the other worthless dogs in this kennel.”

“You're looking at battle-tested warriors, fresh from defending the realm,” said Ellerick. “We'll take anything you throw as us.”

“Defending the realm from what?” the captain asked.

“You haven't heard?” asked Ellerick.

“The most I see of this rock is Ryseland. Been no farther inland than that, and I don't mix with the folks of this port. So what haven't I heard?”

“The Glyssian Realm has fallen,” Ellerick said. “A horde of savages from the Freelands has gathered, and they laid siege to the two highest castles in the land and overthrew the king.”

“I heard there were savages running around, pillaging lands and holdings,” Captain Zellis said. “But I've heard no whispers of an overthrow.”

“You're right to call them whispers,” said Ghendris. “My friend here speaks idle gossip. Pay him no mind.”

“I won't,” said the captain. “Nor you, either. But I'll give you leave to fetch any provisions you think you'll be needing for the voyage. It'll be a long, hard one, so stock up well. And bear in mind there'll be little rest. Now run along and be back here within the hour. I'll need you to help ready the ship for launch.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Ghendris said. He and Ellerick descended the gangplank and made their way back along the quay as they headed for town. As they walked along the squat seaside buildings, navigating the crowds that bustled in the street, Ghendris said to Ellerick, “No more talk of overthrows and such business. Doubtful that news has reached the commoners. We don't want to start a panic before something can be done about it.”

“I'll say no more on the matter,” Ellerick said.

“Good. Now let's find a shop that sells dry goods. And maybe we can scrounge up a barrel of ale.”

The queen looked out at the water as Herrin Dellip drove the wagon up the narrow two-lane road that climbed the cliff face overlooking part of Kaypha's Landing. The port shrank below them as they advanced, and the queen heeded Herrin's words of warning not to look down. The road, cut into the nearly vertical cliff, fell sheer to the sea below, which foamed white against a series of jagged rocks.

When the banners of Daefferun Castle came into view, waving high over the ridge, the queen felt a twinge of anxiety. She didn't know if the vassor would be willing to help her cause. Thayrin Grayvig was known to be a hard man with a long memory, and it was no secret that the queen had once spurned his affections. It had been twenty-six annos ago, when they were students together in the sapient school in Flavah.

She remembered the day well. It had happened during their science lesson, a lecture on the ancient writings of Dysigemies and other Glyssian sources. Whenever the sapient leading the lesson turned his attention to his book or acknowledged the raised hand of another student, Thayrin would look up from his wooden tablet and reach over to tickle Klienne's ear with his ivory stylus. She had tried to ignore him, but when he accidentally marked her cheek with black wax, she told him he was “carrying on like a child.” The sapient heard and removed them both from his class. Then, as they walked from the lecture hall and crossed the manicured grounds of the monastery, Thayrin plucked a honey rose from a bush and knelt before her, asking for her hand in marriage. Klienne had flushed with anger at this further affront and refused him, saying she was already promised to another.

“Who?” Thayrin had asked.

“A nobleman, said to be blood to the current king. But that matters not to me. All I know is that we are in love, and his family has arranged to collect me this summer, so I won't be heading to university with you.”

“What is his name?”

Klienne had gazed up at the cloudless sky and beamed a smile as bright as the afternoon sun. “Hertrigan Vame.”

Thayrin Grayvig had stormed off, crushing the honey rose in his hand and flinging it away. Klienne had seen him on a handful of occasions since then, all of them court business. The vassor had attended tourneys her husband had ordered, as well as meetings to discuss the realm's affairs—trade routes and tariffs, taxes and coinage, roads and bridges, and the myriad other matters that needed to be decided. Since their time at Flavah, however, they had not spent a moment alone. She suspected that would change now.

She could see the curtain wall of Daefferun Castle and towers rising up from within the bailey. In a few moments she would come face to face with a man she had rejected, one who held the fate of the realm in his hands. She regretted the circumstance in which she found herself, but she knew her duty and was determined to see it through to whatever end awaited.

She felt Herrin Dellip's eyes on her and snapped herself out of her reverie.

“Something the matter, your grace?” Herrin asked.

“Nothing at all, Herrin. Just thinking about the past.”

“Being back at Kaypha's Landing stirring up old memories, then?”

“I've never been to Kaypha's Landing, I'm afraid. Nor Payzik, for that matter. A shame really, but I'm here now, though not on terms I would have desired.”

“Well, make the best of a given situation I always say. It may be that the vassor will greet you with open arms and command at once that a fleet be launched in your honor.”

“I do not seek honor in this matter,” said the queen. “Do not mistake my efforts, Herrin.”

“Beg pardon, your grace. I only meant—”

“Leave it. I know what you meant.”

“Yes, your grace.”

Klienne offered him a wan smile. “But I hope the vassor acts in a manner befitting your well wishes. May the Ancients grant it.”

“May they indeed,” Herrin said.

Sapient Breen and Princess Redora walked toward their two saviors as the men approached on horseback. The strangers had appeared unexpectedly and vanquished the pursuing savages like avenging Ancients.

“Stay close to me,” Breen whispered to her as they walked. “We don't know these men, or their intentions.”

Redora nodded and drew closer.

As the strangers neared, Breen thought he recognized one of them. When the white coursers finally stopped in front of them, Breen was sure of it. “You're the Knight at the Head of the king's Outer Guard, are you not?”

“I am,” said Jerreb. “Or I was, if the realm has fallen as I believe it has.”

“I hardly recognized you without your gilded armor,” said Breen. “Sir Jerreb is it?”

Jerreb nodded and then narrowed his eyes at Breen. “And you are?”

“Jayvin Breen, Grand Tutor to”—he looked at Redora—“Princess Redora.”

“The princess!” cried Sendin, his eyes wide.

“So it is,” Jerreb acknowledged. He gave the girl a nod and then turned again to Breen. “Perhaps you'll explain what you and she are doing out here and why she's dressed in peasant garb.”

“As you rightly said, the realm has fallen, and the castle is overrun by people of the plains,” Breen replied. “We managed to sneak out of the castle during the tumult and have been on the run ever since. A company of the savages that overran the castle came after us. I thank you for dealing with them.”

“A knight's pleasure,” Jerreb said. “What is the fate of the king?”

“Uncertain,” said Breen, who glanced quickly at Redora. “I cannot tell you what's happened to any of the Vames besides the princess who stands before you.”

Jerreb saw the sadness in Redora's eyes and wished he had some words of hope or encouragement. But he had none. “Where were you headed?” he asked Breen.

Breen pointed toward the distant forest. “I sought the safety of Bokrh, but I intended to take the princess to my family's lands, outside of the city of Mayul, just to the south.”

“That whole area will be patrolled before long,” said Sendin.

“Yes, and many of the villages and settlements south of here are occupied by Dremsa forces,” added Jerreb, who glanced again at Redora. “Even if she goes unrecognized, the princess would be in danger in those lands. And the Prybbian Realm is a greater danger.”

“One way or another, I must see the princess to a place where she'll be safe,” Breen said.

Jerreb squinted at him. “You're a sapient you say.”

“A grand tutor.”

“Hence the blue and black in your attire,” Jerreb said. “In lieu of the traditional red.”

“That's so,” said Breen. “What of it?”

Jerreb angled his head toward the bodies strewn about on the ground behind them. “That man there, in the red and black, he was a sapient. Why would a sapient run with Dremsa savages? And in pursuit of the princess, no less.”

Breen shook his head slowly, his expression one of genuine puzzlement. “That I cannot answer, good sir. But I assure you I had nothing to do with whatever conspiracy is obviously afoot here.”

“A conspiracy indeed,” Sendin put in.

Jerreb glanced warily across the field of yellow shortgrass that filled Eastern Plain. “One that's probably been brewing for—”

Just then a slender gray dog emerged from the forest and sprinted toward them.

“What is that?” asked the princess.

“A pryor hound,” Breen murmured, staring at the dog.

“Is it dangerous?” the princess asked.

“No,” Breen said. “It's a message carrier, trained in the tradition of the old Gavel Pryors of Austrand, who hail from the town of the same name. After the last of the Gavel Pryors died out many years ago, the best among the ancestors of these hounds were trained to replace them. You can see the slender pouches that

hang at its sides like saddlebags.”

“I've never seen one before,” said Jerreb.

“Nor I,” Sendin added.

“They're used primarily by the high born and wealthy landowners in the west,” Breen explained. “This one must have traveled quite far.”

“Maybe we should have a look at its pouches,” Sendin proffered. “See what tidings it carries.”