Samual (59 page)

“A copper for your dreams my love.”

Sam looked up to see Ry's smiling face and he gave thanks once more for her survival. Without her life had almost not been worth living. With her little else mattered. Especially when she sang as she had been doing for most of the day.

“They're not worth that much beloved.”

And in truth they weren't, and hadn't been for far too long. Though it wasn't fair to her or anyone else, ever since he had heard that Heri had survived he had been walking along a precipice on the edge of despair that threatened to swallow him whole. How did Heri keep surviving? Why did the gods allow it? And now he had learned his brother had even been consorting with the Dragon! It was like some sort of celestial joke that mortals couldn't understand. Only the gods could. Maybe only Alder himself. It was some sort of mischief after all.

As if that wasn't enough his sister had gone to meet with Heri. And though the party had returned weeks before with all the magical sundries Heri had gathered over the years, he had not seen her since. So he didn't know what Heri had told her. He didn't know what she believed. And he wasn't sure he wanted to find out. His last few meetings with her – in fact all his meetings with Mayvelle – had gone badly. Each one worse than the last. The next one could be disastrous.

To be honest though ever since returning from that great and terrible battle of the Bronze Mountains, even though they had been victorious Sam's thoughts had been sour. That was three long months ago. He wasn't alone in that either, and many of the elders had hidden themselves away simply to stop themselves upsetting their families as they ruminated upon the future.

For most it was a victory and little more than that. Officially over twenty thousand of the enemy had been destroyed, though no one had actually counted, and he put it at more like thirty. Some put it higher still. Nothing of the machina's master had been heard of since. Save of course for what his half-brother had been doing with his steel drakes and what the elders saw of him through the Window of Parsus. Sam did not get to hear much of that.

Many dared to hope it was over. But for those who studied tactics and war, as great as what they'd achieved was, it was only a holding action in a war, and no more. In fact the war was only going to get worse. Even now Sam knew the Dragon would be readying his forces for a new target. Amassing his armies and planning his tactics. He would be stronger next time, and though the likelihood was that he would strike far away from the elves of Shavarra hoping to find easier prey, Sam knew that sooner or later he would return.

Against that day, Sam and the elders had been preparing their defences. Now not a day went by when Sam didn't enchant at least a few hundred to a thousand or more arrows and weapons in addition to his other duties. He wasn't alone. The elves had called in every known enchanter in all their lands, and they were all spending day and night enchanting weapons both in their own lands, and those of their nearer neighbours.

But the question remained. If the Dragon could send an army of twenty or thirty thousand machina so far inland to strike at a relatively unimportant target, how many more did he have available? And where would he send them next? When? 

“So be it sour puss! Come and say hello to your wife.”

Before he could even respond Ry grabbed his hand and started pulling him to his feet. And one thing about Ry; she was strong now. Even without his willing assistance she would very nearly have pulled him up all by herself. Her hair thus far was only a few inches long, but it was golden and thick, and it complemented the growing vitality of her skin. These days she shone with health, vitality and happiness, and he couldn't refuse her anything, least of all that. He guessed her students couldn't refuse her either, and she spent most of her afternoons now instructing the children in the dances of their people.

Ry took him in her arms and kissed him passionately,  setting his heart beating a little faster. Maybe later he thought they could do something more than just kiss. They probably would. Now that she was so much recovered, she liked spending as much time in his arms as possible. And he liked it too. In fact it was some considerable time before they let each other go. And then it was only so they could breathe. And maybe laugh a little.

“Now that was worth a copper my husband!” She laughed happily, enjoying both the passion and the power she had over him. And Sam laughed with her. It was most definitely worth a copper.

“It was. But I think I should be the one paying you!” He pulled her tight and kissed her some more. By the All Father she felt good in his arms! Warm and soft and with all the right curves where she needed them. And she smelled even better. “In fact, I think I should be paying you more.”

“How much more?”

“Everything I have of course.

“Then you should have everything you want.”

Sam was left in no doubt as to what she meant when her hands started exploring him. But then there had never really been much doubt to begin with. It was lunch time. They were alone. The wagon was parked behind some trees where others couldn't see them. And they enjoyed themselves most lunch times when they were able to be together.

Now that Ry was so fully recovered from her ordeal, it seemed she was making up for everything she'd missed out on for all those years, and that most definitely included the pleasures that a husband and wife should share. There was not an evening that went past of late that they did not make love, and many lunch times too that they had spent in one another's arms. Some nights, while her parents were asleep in the wagon, they took some furs out by the fire and spent the entire night doing nothing more than being husband and wife under the stars.

Though he hadn't asked, ever since the healers had pronounced her fully recovered he suspected she had been trying to become pregnant, a goal which he shared. Their family was too small, and death of late had been too close a companion. A baby would be a most welcome blessing in such a terrible time, as well as a testament to the importance of the struggle for life itself. He hoped it would also be a way of keeping Ry safe at home and happy when he was away. Unfortunately he feared there would be more trips for him ahead.

Maybe it was time to ask.

“So beloved,” he slid his hands around her waist until he had her belly in them, “how long do you think it will be before we can have this filled with an ellwyn mi fore?” He used the elvish phrase for baby which translated roughly as “promise of spring.” He much preferred the term. And since it was actually spring it seemed somehow appropriate.

Ry laughed and coloured a little. But she didn't pull away.

“And how do you know it isn't already full?” She managed a cheeky grin.

“Is it?” He asked, more than a little curious.

“I don't know, but I don't think the day can be too far off. If that's what you want.” She suddenly dropped her gaze, as if afraid to meet his eyes.

“That's very much what I want.” He gently lifted her head up and kissed her as she wanted to be kissed. “And I notice that your parents are away for a while. The wagon is empty. We could get started now. If you approve.”

Judging by her cheeky grin Sam gathered she very much approved. Quickly she grabbed his hands and started to lead him back to the wagon – not that she ever had to do much leading.

“Samual Hanor.” The messenger's voice came from out of nowhere, and stopped Sam in his tracks. “The elders have asked for your presence.”

Sam groaned quietly. The wagon was only a dozen paces away. And Ry was looking so eager. But he also knew it wasn't a choice. He had given his word.

“Please inform them that I'll be there shortly.” He didn't want to say it. Not just then. But he had to. And it seemed to be enough for the messenger as he turned and headed back.

“I'm sorry beloved.” He turned back to Ry.

“Don't be.” Her cheeky grin broadened unexpectedly. “You've still got to change and that'll take at least a little while!” She started tugging at his hands again, pulling him the rest of the way to the wagon and then all but ordering him in to it.

It was more than a little while before Sam finally made it to the elders, and poor Tyla was breathing hard when they made it. She had had to gallop hard to get there.

No one said anything about his tardiness though. Nor did they comment on his somewhat dishevelled appearance either. They were too busy staring at the Window of Parsus. Ever since the Griffin border patrol had returned with it, the ancient artefact had become a favourite toy of the elders as they used it to spy on their enemy. 

Heri had given them the location and description of the island as well as the window, and with that and a little time they had found the Dragon.

They'd found his secret too. The way he could build his massive armies. But the secret wasn't what they'd expected. It seemed that he didn't have to build each one himself. Instead, he built one of each type of machina, and then through some form of magic they didn't understand, the volcano copied it. Endlessly. There was a pit of lava in the heart of the lair that seemed to be as much molten metal as rock. And all the Dragon had to do was march one of his machina to a stone plinth above it and in short order an identical steel beast would march out of the lake of orange fire. When it cooled of course, another machina would be ready for his commands.

It wasn't the Dragon's magic at all. Because though he built the original and controlled the copies, the actually engine that built his armies was something from the ancient world. Probably something that had been around before even the first Dragon had appeared. In fact Sam was sure the first Dragon had simply found this place and used it as well. The only thing he didn't know was who had built it. Because the ancients had been incredibly powerful. Their knowledge and their magic had been beyond anything that existed any longer. It had to be for so much of it to survive five thousand or more years. But this seemed more like something of the gods themselves.

In the end though, who had built this ancient engine of production didn't matter. Though he might not have built the armies himself, the Dragon still had control of them and the magical engine that he could use to build ever more of them. And he would.

He was also a troll blood as they'd thought. That was the other thing they'd learned through the window. Though some had argued that anyone with troll blood couldn't possibly have the intelligence to do what he was doing, the Dragon clearly did. And he had the intelligence to learn. As they watched him they saw his designs for new machina. They saw his workshops where he built them one by one to assess them, then tore them down and rebuilt them until they were perfect.

They also saw his study and his books. His tables overflowing with maps and plans. They realised that he was learning the art of the war master. Studying campaign strategy and tactics. He might not be the most stable of souls – he was a troll blood after all – but he was determined to become an ever more dangerous enemy. More dangerous even than the first Dragon.

But there were other things they saw that chilled the soul. And perhaps the worst of them was the fate of those the Dragon abducted. It wasn't good. The Dragon considered himself a warrior. The troll equivalent at least. And as such he wanted to test himself. So the men were being given weapons and forced to defend themselves in a makeshift arena while the Dragon slaughtered them with a pair of hand axes he carried everywhere. Then he would offer prayers to Crodan, cut out their hearts and eat them. The women he accepted as his prize for his victories.

Of course it was never a fair fight. The Dragon was small being only troll blood, but still he was part troll. He had the strength and speed of his blood and the natural savagery. And those he fought generally weren't fighters. Some were little more than boys. Most looked to have never held a sword in their lives. They didn't last long. But then the Dragon had never intended that they should.

Since discovering the Dragon's island someone had always been stationed at the window to watch him. Sam didn't envy them that duty. But it had to be done. They had to check what he was doing, what creatures he was making, and most important of all try to work out where he was sending his next army.

The last they still didn't know. But they did know that his next army was big. Every bit as large as the one he had sent against the dwarves and the hillmen in the Bronze Mountains. And he had a new beast as well; wolves. They were slightly bigger than the rats and had longer legs and snouts filled with sharp steel teeth and razor sharp claws. Sam guessed that they would become the foot soldiers in his next army. They would also be much faster runners than the rats and would be able to chase down their victims. Sam had no doubt that few would escape once a wolf set its sights on its prey. And that was always the Dragon's goal; to kill everyone.