The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga (7 page)

Balear looked stung, and Iren could guess
why. The sergeant surely didn’t expect Amroth, leader of Lodia’s
Castle Guard, to favor a Left like Iren Saitosan over a loyal
soldier like himself.

“
All the same,” Rondel
piped up from the back of the line, shaking her now half-empty
bottle, “I think I’ll just go on calling the brat whatever I feel
like.”

Amroth turned in the saddle and glowered at
Rondel. “As for you, I would prefer if you didn’t speak at
all.”

Iren shifted his gaze from Amroth to Rondel
and back again. Try though he might, he couldn’t understand their
relationship. Rondel had helped Amroth seventeen years ago, but as
the day wore on, the two showed no signs of stopping their griping
at each other. Iren wondered what could have happened between
them.

Maybe it simply meant that Rondel wore on
Amroth’s nerves. She seemed to have that effect on people.

Deciding he was probably better off just
ignoring the homeless bat, Iren refocused on the earlier
conversation about their destination. “Amroth, why do the residents
of Veliaf need to keep themselves safe from Akaku? Is the forest
dangerous?”

“
Few who enter Akaku return
alive,” Amroth responded. “The lives of those in Veliaf are steeped
in eternal caution of it. A thick stone wall surrounds the village,
including the mine entrance, and sentries stand upon it at all
times.” Vehemently, he concluded, “The rest of Lodia could learn a
few things from them.”

Iren thought about his life inside Haldessa
Castle. For the first time, he felt grateful for it. The people
treated him poorly, to be sure, but until his accident with the
chandelier, he’d at least always felt safe there. Veliaf, by
contrast, lived under constant threat, and that dread shaped every
moment of their lives.

“
Why go to Veliaf at all,
Capta . . . Amroth?” Balear shifted
uncomfortably as he spoke. Iren laughed quietly at him; evidently
the sergeant had a hard time not acting like a soldier. He sat bolt
upright in his saddle, carrying himself regally as though
participating in a grand parade. Iren intentionally rode closer to
Balear to make the proper young man that much more ill at
ease.

“
Over many missions,”
Amroth replied, ignoring Balear’s discomfiture, “I sought to end
the Quodivar, but they do not fight like a military. Their
commanders hide in the shadows, issuing orders in secret and
sending their grunts to conduct the actual raids. To defeat the
Quodivar, we must find their leadership and destroy it. On my last
mission, we traveled this road, heading for Veliaf. The Quodivar
ambushed us, and many fine Castle Guard members no longer walk
among us because of it. In the end, though, we rallied and pushed
them back, forcing them to flee to the northwest. I wanted to know
where they went, so I and five other men tracked them. After three
days, they entered Akaku a few miles west of Veliaf. I think their
base lies somewhere in the forest.”

Rondel shouted from the back, “Blind
speculation, and you know it! You’d better not have dragged us out
here for nothing!”

Amroth scowled. “Last I checked, I didn’t
drag you out here; you invited yourself.”

“
And I wouldn’t miss it for
anything,” Rondel replied, her grin as wide as ever.

Throwing up his hands, Amroth pressed on,
“Anyway, I dared not enter Akaku with only a handful of men. We
started back to Haldessa when I saw him at the edge of the forest:
the man who, I have no doubt, leads the Quodivar.”

Iren tensed at the mention of his parents’
killer. “What was he like?” he asked.

“
I’ve never met a larger
person,” Amroth replied. “He easily stood over seven feet and must
have weighed at least three hundred pounds. He had the dark
complexion and black hair of a Tacumsah islander, and on his back,
he carried a single sword, more massive than any I have ever seen.
As we lacked the manpower to attack him, I gave the order to
withdraw. Then the worst happened; the enemy spotted us and
attacked. My comrades all perished, and I had to flee in order to
live.”

“
You ran from battle?”
Balear sounded even more hurt than when Amroth had rebuked him for
calling Iren “brainless.”

“
What choice did I have?
Had I stayed, I would have died, and I needed to pass on the
Quodivar’s whereabouts.”

“
Then you really are
leading us on a pointless mission,” Rondel called. “If they saw you
escape, they’ll abandon their hideout now that you know their
location.”

Amroth nodded. “That’s why I wanted to get
underway so quickly. Even without Iren’s stunt yesterday, I would
have opted for a rapid departure. It’s also why I made Veliaf our
first stop. If the Quodivar did vacate, the residents might have
some idea where they went.”

The day wore on as they talked and continued
their journey. When afternoon gave way to evening, Amroth motioned
for them to leave the road. Continuing in the dark would only get
them noticed by Quodivar roaming the trail, and setting up camp
near the road would be just as bad. The captain led them to the top
of a small rise about half a mile west of the path, where they
could easily see the lay of the land around them. There were no
trees or thickets nearby, so they did without a fire and ate their
dinner cold. Rondel whined bitterly as she downed her third bottle
since leaving Haldessa. Iren, however, could find no reason to
complain. Cold or not, he’d consumed few meals in the castle that
matched this one. If nothing else, at least he hadn’t needed to
steal it.

With their bedrolls prepared, Amroth
volunteered to take the first watch. Iren tried to sleep, but he
couldn’t even doze. He stared at the sky, losing himself among the
stars.

After about an hour, he heard the captain
whisper, “Wait for me, Nadav; it’s almost time.”

Iren heaved himself into a sitting position.
“Amroth?”

The captain didn’t turn to face him. “I
thought you were asleep.”

Crawling from his bedroll, Iren took a seat
beside Amroth. “I can’t.”

Looking impressed, the captain replied, “All
day in the saddle and you aren’t tired at all? Lefts really are
something.”

Iren shook his head. “No, honestly, I do
feel exhausted, but this is my first time outside the castle. I
don’t want to miss anything.”

Amroth half-smiled. “We’ll need four days to
reach Veliaf. You’ll have to rest at some point, no matter how
excited you are.”

“
I guess, but not
tonight.”

The pair sat in silence, staring together
across Lodia’s darkened landscape. Working up his courage, Iren
asked, “So who’s Nadav?”

For a long time Amroth didn’t reply. His
face became nostalgic, and Iren sensed that Amroth relived some old
memory. When the captain spoke again, he did so quietly and humbly,
“Before I came to Haldessa, I served in Caardit’s militia. Nadav
was my commander.”

“
Caardit has a militia? I
thought the Castle Guard was Lodia’s military.”

Amroth snorted. “As do most people,
including Azuluu. They think the Castle Guard can protect them from
anything. And why shouldn’t they? On the surface, Lodia is a
peaceful and prosperous nation. We trade extensively with both the
Tengu of Eregos and the humans of Tacumsah. Our farms produce most
of the food and raw materials for clothing used throughout northern
Raa. You saw our opulence on display at the feast. That is the
Azuluu family’s legacy.”

Iren didn’t consider all that food and drink
a bad legacy at all, but he could see in Amroth’s face an indignant
look, one of righteous contempt.

“
It is a fool’s legacy,”
the captain spat. “The fat oaf squanders our wealth on trinkets
while our people suffer and die at the hands of the
Quodivar.”

“
The Quodivar,” Iren
repeated, “who are they, really? What makes them such a
threat?”

Amroth’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Hooligans and thugs, or at least that’s all they should be. You
see, the Quodivar are merely a symptom of a greater problem. Azuluu
doesn’t want to admit that Lodia is in crisis. He views military
spending as wasteful. He is blind and stretches the Castle Guard
too thin. Since we don’t have the strength to restrain them, the
Quodivar have transformed from minor thugs into practically an
army.”

“
So Caardit formed its
militia to protect itself from the Quodivar?”

Amroth nodded. “Caardit is the most remote
town in Lodia. It’s in the northwest corner of the country and
contributes little to Lodia’s economy, so the Azuluu family never
saw a reason to devote much to it. Nadav rescued us. He taught us
strength, that we could only have peace if we had power greater
than our enemies. He taught me everything I know about fighting and
life.” He sighed. “I wish he were still alive.”

“
He died?”

“
In battle, sacrificing
himself trying to save me and his other subordinates. That day, I
swore revenge on those who had slain my great commander. Everything
I’ve done in my life since then has been for that purpose. Now,
with your help, I may achieve that dream.”

Iren saw Amroth with new eyes. The captain
had lost everything when the Quodivar killed Nadav. “Just like me,”
he muttered. “We’re the same.”

Amroth must have heard him, because he
smiled warmly. “You and I both owe a debt to those who’ve made us
suffer. Together, we can pay them back.” The captain paused, gazing
at the moon. “Well, you may not be able to sleep, but I’m bushed.
Shall I leave you to handle the watch?”

Iren grinned and saluted. Anything for
Amroth.

Iren watched as Amroth collapsed onto his
bedroll. Within a few minutes the captain started snoring.

Filled with new passion, Iren seated himself
in the center of camp, trying to examine every detail of the
surrounding countryside. With the moon nearly full and the skies
cloudless, he could see a considerable distance. Amroth had chosen
a good spot that allowed whoever took the watch to spot enemies
approaching from any direction.

While he kept watch, Iren reached into his
pants pocket and withdrew his small, black sea stone. He didn’t
know what had made him bring it. As his only childhood memento,
though, he couldn’t bear to leave it behind. Palming it gently, he
derived a strange sense of calm as he caressed its smooth
contours.

The hours passed uneventfully. Although the
hilltop provided excellent visibility, it also left him exposed. In
the windy night air, Iren’s hands quickly numbed. The stone only
robbed them of warmth faster, so he placed it back in his
pocket.

As he did, his hand brushed against the hilt
of his sword. He still couldn’t quite get used to the fact that it
belonged to him. He’d never used a sword in his life, and he’d
never even seen one of this quality. He wondered if perhaps the
weapon had a name. Back in the stables, Rondel had started to call
it something. He felt certain of that.

There was also the issue of Rondel herself.
Iren peered at the old hag, who was snoring louder than he thought
possible. He found it hard to believe that she’d just so happened
to have all those supplies ready to go, even if it was almost all
alcohol. Nor did he consider it likely that she’d accidentally
gotten lost after the feast and wound up sleeping in the stables.
Whatever she might say to the contrary, she hadn’t come on this
mission by mistake.

Iren made up his mind, his curiosity getting
the better of him. Giving a quick pass over the countryside to
confirm no one was around, he abandoned his post and hunched over
Rondel, trying hard not to breathe or make any sound whatsoever. He
sat there for what felt like hours, studying her and trying to
figure her out. Eventually, when his legs started falling asleep,
he backed away.

As he did, his numb limbs made him lose his
balance. Reaching out to catch himself, he placed a hand on
Rondel’s shoulder. A violent shock ripped through him. Rondel’s
eyes snapped open, and to Iren’s amazement, blue sparks filled
them. Iren collapsed on his back in surprise. Not a second later,
Rondel crashed on top of him, throttling him with an expression of
utmost hatred on her face. Despite her miniscule frame and tiny
hands, her grip held firm against his best efforts to dislodge
her.

“
Rondel, it’s Iren!” he
whispered hoarsely, as much from fear as from an inability to
breathe.

For a moment Rondel appeared not to hear
him, but gradually her hold relaxed, and the bizarre lightning
leaping across her irises disappeared, if indeed it had ever
existed. Iren already doubted himself. Surely it was just the panic
of the moment.

Dusting herself off, Rondel snapped, “What
on Raa do you think you’re doing?”

Iren started to reply, but the aggravating
crone clamped her hand over his mouth. Without looking at him, she
hissed, “Wake the others quietly. Enemies have us surrounded.”

Rondel’s abrupt shift in demeanor terrified
him. Her smile had vanished, and her high-pitched voice that
reveled in making light of everything and everybody had deepened
into a deadly seriousness.

The old woman released him, and Iren turned
his head in circles, surveying the landscape. He could see no
one.

“
I get it,” he finally
deduced. “You’re angry that I startled you, so this is all an act.
You want to get me in trouble by having me sound a false alarm and
wake the others unnecessarily.”

The crone glared at his chest with such
venom that he feared she might throttle him again. Something about
that expression made Iren pretty sure she wasn’t joking. So, still
half convinced Balear and possibly Amroth too would hound him
mercilessly for it, he did as instructed. He woke the captain
gently and then, just for the sake of revenge at getting called
“brainless” earlier in the day, raised Balear by giving him a hard
kick in the ribs.