The next day was much the same. Brode spoke to Holt on the dragon core and the methods used to purify and strengthen it, yet they didn’t have the time to stop and practice in depth.
Holt tried to take it in but his mind kept drifting to sword craft. That seemed the more pressing issue to him. And there was another reason. Servants and others of his status were not permitted to buy or carry weapons. To him, wielding a sword held a mystique of its own.
Sadly, given their need to keep moving, Brode could only promise training in the future and left to speak with Talia. Holt still had the heavy branch Brode had given him, and he held it aloft for as long as he could, determined to prove himself and be ready for when the time came to learn for real.
Day wore on and night gathered. Holt’s feet ached and his chest felt tight, but he’d reached the point where he was numb to it; planting one foot after another in the hopes Brode would call a halt.
Half in a daze from weariness, he didn’t register at first that the others had stopped walking. Nor that Pyra growled and pawed at the ground. He caught up with them and gasped. Before he could go farther, Brode placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Stay back.”
Ash bounded up and he too began to growl. “I sense the scourge here.
And death.”
Before them, down at the bottom of a ditch, was the body of a dragon and a rider. Both had jagged black lines charred across their skin and scales.
Under the dim light, the dragon’s coloring wasn’t clear although Holt thought it a rich blue. More alarming were the many rips in the dragon’s wings, and deep gashes in its body.
“Lord Mirk,” Holt said. His mouth had gone dry.
“And Biter,” Talia said sadly. “So, one of our number did make it away from the Crag… for a while.”
Holt’s heart leapt into his throat. “If they were protecting the civilians then… then that must mean—”
“I don’t see more causalities,” Brode said. He squeezed Holt’s shoulder. “Talia, do you feel Silas out there?”
Talia shifted her head, as though seeking the trail with her nose. “No rider is nearby.”
“I shall go investigate, then,” said Brode. “But be ready, Talia. These bodies may well be bait.”
Talia nodded, her face grim set. She unsheathed her huge red sword from upon her back. Pyra braced herself, her jaw loose, ready to breathe fire if needed.
Holt raised his stick and became painfully aware of how useless he looked and was. His cheeks flushed a color akin to Pyra’s scales. Ash for his part walked to Pyra’s side. He must have sensed where Pyra’s head was, perhaps the pressure she pressed into the ground, for Ash did his best to imitate her. His lack of vision led him to an awkward imitation, however, and his breath came out more as a pant as he tried to summon fire he did not have.
Talia gave the hatchling a sideways look of pity, then looked to Holt. He caught her looking at him but rather than quickly averting her eyes, her frown deepened. In that moment, Holt felt a familiar and powerful feeling of being reprimanded by a superior; unable to defend himself and simply having to stand and take it.
But that wasn’t true anymore, was it?
His emotions once again got the better of him and his next words tumbled out before he could stop himself. “You resent me, don’t you?”
Talia blinked, taken aback. But the moment passed, and she settled back into a frown.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You and Brode would have an easier time if we weren’t here.”
“We would,” she said seriously. “We could fly then. Go with speed. We might have joined Mirk and then he wouldn’t have stood alone.”
“You couldn’t have taken on Silverstrike.” “Oh, and you could?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I’m the only real rider left in Feorlen now. I may have to fight him, if help doesn’t come in time.”
“You’ll have Brode and Ash. And me!”
“What are you going to do? Have Silas laugh himself to death as you run at him with that stick?”
Holt’s cheeks flushed.
“Look,” she went on, “I’m just trying to face the hard truth. You are holding us back, pot boy—”
“My name is Holt.”
But she either didn’t hear him or didn’t care.
“—I have the fate of the kingdom to worry about. It’s a lot. I can’t add you to that list, especially if it comes to a fight.”
“Don’t then,” Holt said, curtly. He’d tried to reach out and she was being cold with him. “You look after you, and I’ll look out for myself and Ash. I won’t slow you down any more than I can help.”
“That’s not… that’s… I’ve just lost a lot recently,” she said, her voice softer now.
Holt wrinkled his nose, feeling the heat of anger drain from him. “Your brother. The King. I’m sorry about that. I understand.”
“You don’t unders—”
“Yes, I do. I lost my mother, not that you cared to even ask about it. You can tell me all the hard truths in the world, princess, but you can’t tell me how I feel.”
She met his eyes again, raised her eyebrows and blinked once in shock. “If we were back at the Crag, I could strike you for insolence.”
“Go ahead. Although Ash will give you a pretty nasty bite for it.” He regretted saying it immediately.
But Talia smirked. “You were never meant to be a Cook with that sort of spirit.” She raised her hand, and Holt winced, thinking she was about to smack him with her rider enhanced strength. She feigned the strike and
lowered her hand. “All that courage and you’re still jumpy? When did you ever see me hit a servant before?”
“Not once,” Holt admitted. “But it happens.” “Yes… It happens.”
“But I’m not a servant anymore.”
“You’re not yet a rider either,” Talia said. “Look, let’s not be at each other’s throats. Master Brode has enough to deal with as it is.” She held out a hand for him to shake. Holt took it and fought back a gasp as Talia squeezed with undue strength.
“I hope the pair of you aren’t conspiring to make me collect the firewood tonight,” Brode said as he trudged back up the incline. “Because I’ll ignore it.” When neither of them answered, he carried on. “Looks like Silas’s work all right. Those scorch marks weren’t made by flames. More worrying are the other injuries on Biter’s body. His wings were shredded badly. Even if he’d lived, I doubt he’d ever have flown again. I think he was tortured.”
“I never imagined dragons could be broken like that,” Holt said. He gulped and looked to Ash.
“It’s not the dragon Silas was trying to break,” Brode said. “It was the rider.”
Talia moved to Pyra’s side to place a comforting hand on her dragon. “This is horrible. Just horrible.”
“You see,” Brode continued, speaking to Holt, “even the thought of your dragon being in pain caused you to be afraid. Silas knows this. Biter would have endured tremendous pain, perhaps never breaking. But Mirk… I suspect feeling the pain of his dragon broke him quickly. We’re not as strong as they are.”
“Mirk would have known when we left the Crag,” Talia said. She ran her hands down her face before placing them behind her head. “And he knew where we went,” she said in sudden fear. “Master Brode, do you think
—”
“I fear he did,” Brode said. “Hence why Silas dispatched him.”
Holt’s heart thumped. “So, Silas knows you and Talia are still out there?”
“I assume so,” said Brode. “I’ve found it unsettling that we’ve seen no signs of the swarm on our march. No wasting of the land, nor any trail of destruction which would usually follow in their wake. Silas’s efforts seem
focused on removing the riders, which makes sense enough. He would have counted the dragons after the attack on the town and judged two had escaped him. Once he caught up to Mirk and Biter and found Pyra and Talia were not with him, he would want to know where they were.”
“And not you?” Holt asked.
Brode sniffed. “Doubt he cares. I have no dragon. No magic. Still, if Mirk broke and told him…” he trailed off, looking to Talia in some alarm as she’d started pacing and biting at one nail. “Don’t fret, girl. I doubt Silas would reveal himself so openly by following in our footsteps. Far simpler to just wait at the Crag and catch us upon our return.”
Talia ceased pacing and nodded. “Yes, Master Brode. I should not even worry, of course.”
Brode grunted an acknowledgment, then thumped the strap of his sword belt, lost in thought again.
Holt wondered what could have caused Talia such concern. Where had the two of them been? Countless questions were still unanswered. Why would Silas do this? What were they to do? What had become of his father?
“None of this makes sense,” Holt said, as though in some conclusion.
Brode looked to him. The hand playing at his sword belt tightened on the leather. “A few things do, I think. If we accept that, for whatever twisted reason, Silas is able to control this swarm. How he’s done this, I cannot say. Some powerful mystic dragons can influence the minds of others but Clesh is not a mystic. Nor do any stories of mystics being able to sway the scourge come to mind – the creatures are mostly mindless drones, bar the Swarm Queens.”
“Perhaps it is the other way around,” Talia offered. “Silas may have been taken and corrupted by the scourge and now is under their sway.”
Brode considered this. “Anything is possible. Normally anything the scourge corrupts becomes part of the swarm, incapable of independent thought. And ordinarily only the dead may rise to join their ranks. Some new, darker power might be behind it. For now, we don’t know enough to say. Yet given we know he has turned to the scourge, this leaves the question of why he would hunt down the riders an obvious one. Should the riders fall, the scourge will sweep across Feorlen unchecked.”
“Only the swarm is being held back from attacking everything it comes across,” Talia said. “Presumably by Silverstrike.”
Brode nodded. “Removing the riders in a few careful moves, and quietly, would leave the kingdom exposed. The swarm could descend upon Sidastra and take it before the rest of the riders could be made aware of the true danger. But he may have miscalculated. Holt, you said that Commander Denna was already injured when she returned to the Crag, is that right?”
“Ysera was injured.”
“And the attack followed swiftly after she returned?” “Almost at once,” Holt said.
“Then I think we may safely assume a few events,” Brode said. “Silverstrike claimed he was taking the Commander and company to ready Feorlen’s defenses. It would have been a simple matter for him to lead the others into a trap. But to his failing and our flicker of hope, Denna managed to escape. He pursued her, likely with a smaller, swifter portion of his swarm to the Crag. There he and his limited forces faced Mirk the Champion, not enough to cause him a real threat but enough to occupy him for a time.”
“That might explain why the civilians were able to get away,” Talia said.
Brode nodded. “His focus would have been on the remaining riders. Once they were dead and the tower of the Crag left a smoldering ruin, he discovered two dragons were missing: Pyra and Biter. He renewed his pursuit and came upon Mirk and Biter. At this point things become less clear. He may have returned to the Crag to lie in wait for Talia and I or he may have pursued the civilians. I can’t imagine he’s pleased so many got away. Any word of his betrayal or his swarm’s strange behavior might ruin his plans.”
“Do you think the people made it to the fort?” Holt asked. This one point he needed reassurance on.
“My gut feeling is they have,” Brode said. “We’ve yet to see evidence that he caught them. Mirk and Biter may have turned to face Silas and so distract him long enough to allow the refugees to reach Fort Kennet.”
“Is such a thing possible?” Talia asked. “Mirk was strong but only a Champion and not really as mighty as Denna. Silas is a Lord.”
“Even Lords can run their supply of magic low,” Brode said. “He fought Denna and the officers somewhere in the wild. He fought again at the Crag. Mirk may well have been able to give him a real fight by then.”
“And withstand his questioning afterwards,” Talia said. “Enough time to allow the people to make it to Fort Kennet.”
“Could the fort hold out against him?” Holt asked.
Brode shrugged. “With sufficient warning, I’d say so. Clesh’s power would be all but spent by then and a prepared fort would be a hard thing for him to besiege with his small forces. Warnings may even now be racing to every corner of the kingdom.”
“That might just make him accelerate his plans,” Talia said. “The Summons was already sent. If he means to take the kingdom, he’ll have to face the full might of Feorlen upon the walls of Sidastra.”
“Will he?” Brode said ominously. “If he controls the swarm – and I’ll assume the worst – he could easily change tactics and target smaller towns. Attacking the weakest points will lure your Uncle Osric and the army out into the open. Away from the capital’s defenses, the scourge has the upper hand. Naturally, his primary goal will be to hunt us. If he catches us, he’ll stop word from reaching other Order Halls.”
Holt gazed at the darkening sky, as if he might spot Silverstrike as a black silhouette of doom, tracking them through the wilderness. He lowered his head and moved to hug Ash, wrapping his arms around the dragon’s ever-growing neck.
“Do not fear. If your father made it to the fort, he will be safe.”
The bond hummed, and for a moment, Holt’s anxiety dissipated.
But Talia’s next words brought it all back. “Even if Silas’s plans haven’t gone perfectly, it seems to me he’s still winning. If spreading word about him is so crucial, then let me fly with Pyra. If we can reach Sidastra, I can warn my uncle, and we’ll ride west with every soldier we have before he can gather the full swarm. The army will already be assembling.”
Brode shook his head. “The skies will be watched even more closely than the ground. Clesh is too powerful a storm dragon; Pyra can’t outfly him. And something still doesn’t feel right to me.”
“Why would he do this?” Talia asked, sounding more desperate than Holt had ever heard her. “What possible reason – what does he stand to gain from it?”
“I don’t know,” Brode said darkly.
“You fought beside him,” she said. “If anyone would know it’s you.”
“We’re missing some piece of the puzzle,” said Brode. “Something vital. Something terrible. Until we know, we must stick together.”
Talia seemed spent. She nodded, and her shoulders slumped.
“Once we reach Fort Kennet things may become clearer,” Brode said with an air of finality. “For now, we should get as far away from here as we can and try to get some rest. Pyra, make sure to burn these bodies.”
Pyra growled in agreement and took to the air, her purple scales blending with the twilight sky.
By the time they stopped to rest that night, the bonfire that was Mirk and Biter was but a candleflame in the distance behind them.
