Centyr Dominance (2 page)

“There’s nothing else here,” she told them after a few
minutes. “Or if there is, it’s nothing my pet can discern.”

“Anything new in the area where the traces are?” asked
Matthew.

That place was less than a hundred yards from their
current location and well within both of their perceptual ranges. Moira’s pet
had revealed nothing new about that area.

“No,” she responded. “But there are no other traces
deeper in. Whatever happened here, that’s probably the extent of it.”

“Let’s go have a look for ourselves then,” said Gram,
his voice oddly muted by the metal armor that covered his face. It was easy to
forget it was there. The enchantment made the parts that covered his face
transparent to the point of invisibility, but they still altered the resonance
of sounds coming and going.

Maybe I should fix that,
pondered
Matthew,
but if I do, the armor might completely ignore sonic attacks. It
might be possible to selectively ignore the sounds produced by his voice while
filtering non-native sounds, but then he’d be effectively deaf.
Someone
punched his shoulder then.

“Hey, dumbass, let’s move,” said Moira. “You’re
blocking the way.”

“I was thinking about something,” he answered angrily.

Moira leaned closer, already incensed, “It would be
nice if you did your thinking when you weren’t standing in front of everybody.”

“You’re such a jerk, Moira,” he spat out reflexively.

The words were nothing unusual, but she felt a
familiar pain at their utterance.
I’ve always tried to look out for you,
and you do nothing but attack me as soon as you’re the least bit
inconvenienced,
she thought. “I’m a jerk?!” were the words that actually
came out of her mouth. “You’re the idiot who cut off his own arm! Maybe I was
being a jerk when I put it back on for you?”

Gram separated them and moved into the space between
them, “Let’s argue about stupid shit after we find the Count.”

“Perhaps one of ye would be so kind as to make a
light?” asked the hunter from the rear of the group. “I can’t see a
gods-damned thing back here.”

Matthew closed his mouth even as he created a light on
the end of his staff. Moira created two small firefly-like creatures, each
carrying a similar light. They buzzed ahead and illuminated the caverns in
front of them.

“Show off,” said Matthew with some irritation.

The hunter ground his teeth in annoyance at their
continued bickering. “Worst feckin’ twins I’ve ever known,” he said softly to
himself.

“She’s adopted,” said Matthew.

Moira gave her brother a look that promised future
retribution even as Chad wondered to himself,
How did he hear me?

Gram answered his unspoken question, “The dragons give
all of us unbelievably good hearing.”

“Now, if they would just make the lot of ye smarter
too, I’d be eternally grateful,” responded the hunter.

Gram responded by pushing past the twin wizards and
moving forward into the passageway. They followed him, saving their argument
for later, while the hunter brought up the rear.

Two offshoots led to dead ends, but Moira warned Gram
away from them, and they continued until they came to the chamber that held the
strange traces of aythar. It was a larger cavern, some twenty yards across and
nearly forty in length. Water lay in a shallow pool to one side, but it was a
flattened area in the center that drew their attention.

The floor appeared to have been melted there, and it
was readily apparent that it hadn’t been from some natural geologic process.
Moira and Matthew both moved to the spot, their faces rapt with concentration.

Damned magic,
thought
Chad, but then his eyes spotted something off to one side, a ripped and torn
tabard. Gram followed his eyes and picked it up before he could say anything.

Moira considered the traces of aythar with curiosity.
The cave was full of them. Something momentous had occurred there. The
feeling they carried was indeed similar to the magic that lay behind Gram’s
sword and the magic she had felt the day Matthew had accidentally severed his
own arm. Even so, she could make no sense of it. She turned her attention to
Gram and the ranger. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Someone’s discarded livery,” offered Gram, holding up
the ragged cloth.

Chad frowned. Something seemed off to him.

“I don’t recognize it,” admitted Moira.

“It represents the Earl of Berlagen, in western Dunbar,”
explained Gram.

Moira gave him a surprised look, “How did you know
that?”

“I may not be as bright as some, but Mother made me
memorize the crests of every known house in Lothion, Gododdin, and Dunbar,”
answered the young knight.

“This didn’t come from Dunbar,” interrupted Matthew.
“It came from someplace—
else
.”

“Those soldiers that came with T’lar crossed over the
northern wastes from Dunbar,” asserted Gram, “and this tabard came from there
as well. I don’t see that there’s any reason to doubt that.”

Chad spoke up, “Why would they leave something as
obvious as a tabard here, unless they’re trying to lay the blame on someone
else…”

Matthew shook his head, “Not the tabard,
this.
”
He gestured at the empty area in the middle of the room.

Neither Gram nor Chad could see anything there other
than the partially melted floor, but Moira knew he was referring to the
otherworldly aythar that lingered in the area.

“Could Celior have crossed over here, or re-entered
here?” she wondered aloud. As far as either of them knew, he had remained in
the world since his first entry when Elaine Prathion had summoned him, the year
before they had been born.

“No, but something did,” said her brother. “I think
the boundary has been changing since Mal’goroth tore his way through. It’s
weaker. I think something new has come.”

Moira shrugged, “Well whatever it is, it’s here now.
We need to find it, and Father.”

“Celior flew when I saw him leave after his fight,”
Gram reminded them, “and whatever was here hasn’t left any significant trace of
its departure.”

“We need to go to Dunbar,” stated Moira firmly.
“Someone there was part of this. Once we find them, we may be able to find
their unnatural allies.”

“We don’t know that your father was taken back there,”
said Chad. “Yer best chance is to widen yer search here. Not that it’s a good
chance.”

“We’ll do both,” she answered decisively. Her eyes
went to her brother, looking for his inevitable argument. She was surprised
when he nodded in agreement.

“She’s right,” said Matthew.

“Chad can stay with you,” she continued without
skipping a beat. “I’ll take Gram with me to Dunbar.”

“Take them both,” said her brother. “I won’t need
help searching and Chad can’t track from dragon back. I’d feel better if you
had two people watching out for you in a strange place.”

It was uncustomary for her brother to show such
concern, and she bristled at his suggestion that she might need protecting.
They argued over it for several minutes before she gave in. Matthew was
unreasonably stubborn. It wasn’t worth the energy.

“Tell Mother what we’re doing when you get back home
this evening,” she told him at last. It gave her some small pleasure knowing
that he would face their mother’s disapproval alone.

“You should send one of your little minions,” he
replied. “I might not go back for a day or two.”

Something in his words didn’t quite ring true. Moira
wondered what he might be planning, but then she decided he was just covering up
his fear of facing the Countess by himself.
He’s going to use his search as
an excuse to avoid facing her for a few days,
she guessed.

She used her aythar and a few quick words to lighten
Gram and Chad, so they wouldn’t present too much of a burden for Cassandra. As
they took to the air, she looked down, watching Matthew wave goodbye. She
couldn’t help but think she had gotten the better of their bargain.

Cassandra’s back was crowded with three passengers.
Moira rode in front, with Gram behind her and Chad behind him. She had used a
temporary spell to lighten their weight and another to cause them to stick to
the dragon’s back.

Knowing they couldn’t fall off helped with their
anxieties, but she could tell they were still uncomfortable. She smiled to
herself as she listened to the hunter swearing quietly to himself. Gram on the
other hand remained silent, but his hands were clenched into fists.

It’s going to be a long and tiring flight,
said
Cassandra’s voice in her mind.

We shouldn’t be too heavy,
answered
Moira.
I lightened the load for you.

It’s more than that,
responded
her dragon,
the three of you disrupt the airflow around me, so I have to
spend more energy using my wings to keep us aloft.

Let me know if you get tired,
said
Moira.
There’s no reason we can’t take breaks if necessary.

Grace flew beside them, her slender form keeping up
with ease. She was still too small to help by carrying Gram, but she had been
growing rapidly. In another month or so she might be able to carry a rider,
judging by the rate at which the other dragons had grown after hatching.

The wind made normal conversation difficult, and they
lapsed into silence. Moira wasn’t bored, though. Her mind was preoccupied
with the ever changing vista around her. Despite their speed, the mountains
seemed to pass by slowly beneath them. The sun might have been hot on their
shoulders, but the frigid air did more than compensate for that. In fact, they
were becoming increasingly cold.

Moira created a shield around the humans in a sloping
dome-like shape to divert the rushing wind, and then she used a word to adjust
the temperature within.

That’s better,
noted
Cassandra.

Were you cold?
she
asked the dragon, somewhat surprised.

I meant the strain of staying airborne. It
isn’t perfect, but you aren’t creating as much drag now,
explained
Cassandra.

That wasn’t what I was aiming for, but
it’s good to know,
thought Moira. She was still relatively
new to flying, but she was learning that it was more complicated than she had
originally realized.

They only had to stop twice before nightfall. After
their second break, they flew until dusk had deepened to the point that they
could barely see. Magesight was a poor substitute for normal vision when
flying, given its range limitations. Without moonlight, they were resigned to
finding a place to stop in the mountains.

The eastern edge of the Elentirs was still more than
an hour’s flight away, and although the mountains were getting smaller there
were still no towns. They were saved from a rough camp when they spotted a
sturdy cabin in one of the valleys.

It had smoke coming from the chimney, so it was
definitely inhabited. They landed several hundred yards away and hoped that
the dragons hadn’t been seen. Moira could only imagine what sort of panic the
sight of a beast as large as Cassandra might cause.

I will sleep here,
the
massive dragon told her.

She nodded,
Thank you, Cassandra. I wish you could
stay with us.

It is no hardship. Morning will arrive
soon enough.

Grace wasn’t quite as content. She knew she was small
enough to accompany them within, but her form was still a problem. She was
tempted to suggest using an illusion so that she could accompany them, but in
the end she kept her thoughts to herself. It would be cold on the mountainside,
but she would be warm enough if she stayed beside the larger dragon.

Chad took the lead as they approached the wooden
building. “Let me do the talkin’.”

“I can speak for myself, thank you,” said Moira
immediately.

Gram winced at her remark. He already knew better
than to argue with the ranger on most matters.

“Yeah? An’ what do ye plan to tell ‘em when they come
to the door?” replied the hunter wryly.

“The truth,” she answered. “We have nothing to hide.”

“I’m the daughter of the Count di’Cameron. Would you
mind putting us up for the night? I’m just out searching for my lord father in
the mountains. We won’t be any trouble. Do you think you could spare some
tea?” responded the ranger pitching his voice higher to imitate hers.

She glared at him, “I do
not
sound like that.”

“Don’t be so sure o’ that, princess,” said Chad.

“Nor am I a princess…”

“That ain’t the point,” he interrupted. “Ye may not
sound like that to yer own ears, or even to mine, but to people who’re livin’
out here in the wilderness, that’s how ye’ll come off. They’ll be scared half
to death at the thought of someone like you bein’ here. Worsen’ that if you
tell ‘em yer the daughter of the Count.”

Moira graced him with an angry stare but held her
tongue for a moment as she considered his words. Chad Grayson never failed to
irritate her, but she couldn’t deny his logic. Finally she spoke again, “What
would you have us do then?”

“Let me talk. Yer my daughter, Gertie, an’ he’s my
son-in-law, Gram,” explained Chad.

“Why does he get to keep his own name?” she protested.

“Fer one, it ain’t that uncommon a name, but yer’s is
a dead giveaway.”

“Son-in-law? You want them to think we’re married?”
added Gram.

Chad laughed, “Ain’t no one gonna believe a great
brute like you is my son, an’ there’s no way ye could be brother an’ sister.”
He looked at Moira then, “Oh, an’ we’re gonna have to tell them ye’re slow.
Try not to talk. Stick to grunts if ye can.”

Moira’s eyes went wide, “What?!”

Gram began chuckling at that.

“This isn’t funny,” she told him angrily, before
turning on Chad. “Shouldn’t he be silent too? We both grew up in the castle.”

“Yeah, if he talks too much it’ll be a problem, but I
think he can get by if he sticks to short sentences. Gram’s spent a lot of
time hangin’ around the barracks an’ talkin’ with yer father’s soldiers,” said
the ranger. “Ain’t that right, Son?”

“That’s right, Pa,” answered Gram, snickering.

She looked back and forth between the two laughing
men, growing more annoyed as they continued to laugh. “Mebbe ye should
consider that this big lout ain’t the only one who kin act differ’nt if needs
be,” she said suddenly, using a thick accent.

The two of them began to laugh harder, until Gram had
to gasp for air.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, puzzled.

“Please stop!” begged Gram. “You’re killing me here.”

Chad smiled at her, “I’m convinced now. Don’ say a
word girl, from here on yer a mute. Gram, can stick to short sentences,
otherwise stay quiet. Yer a very shy boy. Ye ken me?”

“Okay, Pa,” said the young warrior.

“This really isn’t fair,” said Moira, shaking her
head.

“Can you disguise us?” asked the hunter. “Our clothes
will give us away sooner’n our voices will.”

She had already thought of that. Anyone could tell by
the fine leather and linen of their outfits that they were far from peasant
folk. “Don’t worry,
Father,
” she told him with a sarcastic grin. “I
know just the thing.”

A few minutes later, they were inspecting each other.
Moira had gone over them with a light touch, altering their appearances with
several minor illusions. Their clothes were now scuffed and worn, while their
skin looked to be smudged here and there. Chad was notably missing one of his
front teeth, and Gram had acquired a bad case of acne with pimples dotting his
cheeks and forehead.

“I don’t think all this was strictly necessary,” said
the hunter as he looked at himself in a small mirror she had with her.

Gram chuckled until he looked over the other man’s
shoulder and saw his pocked cheeks reflected there. He gave Moira a sour
look. “You don’t look any different, other than your clothes,” he told her indignantly.

“You had to have some reason to marry a poor girl who
couldn’t talk,” she shot back, tossing her hair over one shoulder with a look
of innocence.

“Some would say a woman who couldn’t talk was a bonus,
not a drawback,” muttered Chad.

Moira’s eyes twinkled with amusement, “Would you like
to be bald and hunchbacked as well?”

Gram laughed, “Good one, Gertie!”

“Let’s go,” said Chad gruffly, “before she gets any
more nasty notions in that head of hers.”

***

The man who answered their knock stepped into the
front yard, closing his door behind him. He studied them suspiciously, and his
eyes frequently lit on Gram’s broad shoulders. The young man’s size clearly
made him nervous.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Pardon us fer intrudin’,” began Chad. “We won’t be
botherin’ ye much. It’s cold out, an’ we were hopin’ we could impose on ye fer
a place to shelter fer the night, even the barn would be fine. The wind gets
to bitin’ somethin’ fierce at night.”

“You’re a long way from civilized country,” replied
the man. His words held a strange accent which Moira supposed must be because
they were already on the Dunbar side of the mountains. “Who are you?” added
the cabin owner.

“Chad Grayson,” answered the hunter truthfully, “an’
this here’s my daughter Gertie an her husband Gram.” He held out his hand,
“Pleased to make yer acquaintance.”

The other man ignored his proffered hand, “What are
you and your kin doing out here?”

“We’re lookin’ to find a place in Dunbar,” answered
Chad. “Drought last year ruined our farm, an’ the tax man wasn’t so
understandin’…
if
ye take my meanin’.”

“You crossed the mountains?” replied the stranger
incredulously. “Damn stupid thing to do. You’re lucky to have gotten this
far. There’re smarter ways to get there.”

Chad scratched the back of his head while projecting
an air of embarrassment, “Well, we was in a bit of a hurry.”

The silence stretched awkwardly for a minute before
the man spoke, “You must be strong to have made it this far. The Iron-God bids
us to honor strength. You can sleep in the barn tonight. There’s a small
stream that’s safe to drink running about thirty yards to the west. You can
find water there. I can’t afford to offer you food.”

“We appreciate it,” said Chad gratefully, ducking his
head.

“Steal from me, and you’ll regret it,” added the
stranger. “We don’t abide thieves here.” He turned away, as if to return to
the house.

“Thank ye, sir,” said Chad quickly. “We won’t cause
ye no trouble. I didn’t catch yer name…”

“Clarence,” said the man, stepping inside. “Stay away
from the house,” he added as he shut the door. They could hear the heavy sound
of a bar being dropped into place.

The barn wasn’t particularly spacious, having only one
empty stall and a small hayloft that held little hay. Moira guessed that the
rocky mountain valley didn’t provide much in the way of summer hay to be
stored. The stall probably belonged to the big boned mule she sensed in the
distance. Clarence must have left it out to forage since the weather wasn’t
too cold yet.

Aside from the loft and the stall, there was only a
small storage area that held a variety of tools. Chad led them up a ladder
into the loft.

“You surprised me,” Moira told the ranger once they
had settled in.

“How’s that?” asked Chad.

“I’ve never seen you so polite before.”

Gram laughed at that.

“Hah,” said Chad. “I show respect when it’s due.
These folk live a hard life, an’ they’re helpin’ us out.”

Comparing his current behavior to his normal surliness
back home, she wondered what that meant for his opinion of her family.

Her thoughts must have been written on her face, for
he addressed them directly. “Nobles get more respect than they deserve,” he
added. “Yer father knows that, which is why he lets me speak as I please. An’
it’s why I continue to live there.”

“So you don’t respect my family?” she challenged.

The hunter grinned, “Nah, I’m sayin’ yer father is a
wise man, an’ I honor his wisdom by bein’ my normal asshole self.”

Moira frowned, not quite sure what to make of that
remark.

“Even a nobleman needs an asshole now and again,”
added the hunter.

Gram chuckled, “Every man needs an asshole—at least
once a day.”

She looked from one face to the other, “You are
definitely a bad influence on Gram.” Her tone was serious, but her smile let
them know the humor wasn’t lost on her. “By the way,” she added, “there were
two other people in the house.”