Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga (26 page)

“Not bad,” Vesperin said to Rennon. “Not at all,” Rennon replied.

All three sets of eyes were on Dorenn as he raised his tankard. He turned it up, letting the thick liquid slide down his throat without tasting it. The ale had a viscous quality. The alcohol burned slightly. The oily fluid washed down, leaving only a slightly bitter aftertaste.

“Careful, Dorenn, that ale is called stout for a reason; it will hit you all at once,” Gondrial cautioned as he promptly ordered another round with a smile.

“Make it five ales,” Bren said to the inn mistress as he pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat in it next to Dorenn. “Hello, lad,” he said to Dorenn. “Mind if I invite myself to your outing?”

“Not at all, broodlord,” Dorenn replied. Dorenn noticed that the dragon knight did not wear his armor but instead was wearing a red and black leather tunic, breeches, and a tabard with a dragon inlay pull over. A medallion of a wounded drake being tended to by a man hung around his neck.

“I thought dragon knights abstained from drinking and tavern going.”

“No, that is a myth, I am afraid. Dragon ale would make Lux Amarou Stout look like a pale amber.”

“I thought it was against the wishes of the dragon masters you worship,” Vesperin said.

Bren sniffed loudly. “We do not worship our dragons. We revere them, serve them as beings of ancient power and respect. They are friends and mentors. Someday you will meet them, and then it will all become clear.”

“Meet the dragons; I would not be so bold to think I will ever meet the dragons,” Rennon stated coldly.

“Be careful, young Rennon. Some dragons turn up where you least expect them.”

Vesperin chuckled.

Rennon shook his head and tried to sip the rest of the ale from his empty tankard.

“If you don’t worship dragons, why did you become a dragon knight?” Dorenn asked.

Bren lifted his medallion and pointed to the man tending to the wounded dragon. “This medallion explains it all. It means a life for a life. The very first dragon knight dedicated his life to the dragon called Amadyre because she sacrificed her unborn drakeling in order to save his life. He declared that his life now belonged to her. A life for a life. Dragons only give birth about once every one hundred seasons or so. After a time, Amadyre gave the knight longer life and taught him the magic of the dragons. Soon many dragons recruited men, dwarves, elves, and even Scarovs.”

“Then why are you here?” Rennon asked.

“My dragon suggested it. Ah, here is our ale.”

As the next round of ale was consumed, Rennon asked his question to Bren again. “Why are you here with us? Are you representing the dragons?”

“That is difficult to say, young Rennon, I certainly don’t have to be here. In truth, I
am
here in representation of the dragons, but any such designation would be informal and unofficial. I was told by a sailor that you had a female dragon knight in your company; naturally I had to investigate since I have never heard of such a thing, but all I find is a young kitchen maiden with broodlord armor. When I questioned Tatrice as to where she acquired the armor, your Lady Shey convinced me that Tatrice is no dragon knight, so I am as perplexed as you. My quest is foretold by the dragon seers as a quest of great importance, and that I am to find a dragon knight like no other. But officially, I am just a traveler like you, seeking truth.”

“Did Tatrice tell you the story of Signal Hill?” Gondrial asked.

“Aye, you all are very lucky to have gotten out of that forsaken place alive, very impressive indeed.”

“I thought so. People tend to loosen their tongues around you freely, Sir Knight.”

Dorenn watched as Rennon fidgeted at Bren and his explanations. Dorenn knew Rennon did not believe all the dragon knight was saying. Rennon’s twitching nose and searching eyes gave him away. Gondrial’s line of questioning did not make Rennon feel any better in Dorenn’s eyes.

“Broodlord, I have always been led to believe that dragon knights were very secretive, yet you give us information generously, why?” Dorenn asked for Rennon’s sake more than for himself.

Bren appeared visibly offended. He paused to drink down his ale. “Such knowledge is not something you would want to hear. I have spoken at length with the mage Ianthill, and he has informed me that you know little of the ways of dragons. For this reason, and other reasons I will keep to myself, I will not answer your question directly but know this: I am a dragon knight and a fellow passenger on this journey of life. Anything that interests my dragon friends also interests me.”

“The dragons have seers?” Vesperin asked.

“Of course they have seers,” he eyed Vesperin, “and clerics of Loracia, you may be surprised to hear.”

Vesperin was surprised. “What god does your master worship?”

“Enough questions for now, lads,” the broodlord said, clearly irritated.

Dorenn took another gulp of his ale, and the room began to spin around him; a sharp pain ensued at his temples. He looked up, saw the laughing faces of his friends, and realized they perceived nothing wrong. Dorenn tried to speak, but no words came from his mouth. In his mind’s eye, he saw a snake in a nest with young chicks. He tried to reach and help the young birds by grabbing the snake, but when he reached out, fire leapt from his hand, burning the nest to cinders. The snake burst into flames, and then the tree caught fire, and finally the forest was ablaze. Dorenn was trying to put out the flames, but something was pulling him away
. Am I dreaming
? he thought.

“Open your eyes, lad!” Bren was fanning his face with his huge hands. Dorenn lethargically opened his eyes to see he was on the floor. Bren began shaking him vigorously. “Ah, there we go. No more ale for you tonight, I think,” he said, helping Dorenn to his feet.

“Something is wrong,” Dorenn said as he sat back in his chair.

“Aye, you are drunk, and you fell out of your chair,” Rennon said laughing.

“No, something else is wrong. The ship is sailing. We are being left here.” He gasped as he had an epiphany. “Not everyone is who they seem to be.”

“I think we need to get back to the ship and put you to bed, Dorenn,” Gondrial said. “I have never seen an innkeeper’s son that could not hold his ale before,” he laughed. Gondrial downed his ale and then stood up. “Let’s get him back to the ship.”

“Wait a moment, let me see if he is ill,” Vesperin said as he put his hand on Dorenn’s forehead. Vesperin mumbled a prayer and then opened his eyes wide. “What is happening to you, Dorenn?” he mumbled.

“I don’t know. Get to the ship!”

Suddenly concerned, Bren sprinted with unimaginable speed to where he could see the ship. He became a blur of black and red as he moved. A few moments later, he rejoined the other four. “The ship is safely moored at the dock. There is no sign of any disturbances. Are you certain you are all right, Dorenn?”

“No, I’m clearly not all right.”

Rennon put his hand on Dorenn’s forehead and then pulled a piece of asber bark from his pouch. “Here, chew this. It feels like you may have a fever.”

Dorenn took the bark and began chewing it.

“What did you feel when you touched him, Vesperin?” Gondrial asked, now growing increasingly concerned.

“I felt evil within him, rising like the tide. I can’t explain it.”

“We need to find Ianthill as soon as we get back to the ship. He will know what is happening,” Gondrial said.

Dorenn found it increasingly difficult to walk and talk the closer they came to the ship, and Bren had to carry him the rest of the way. Vesperin began mumbling his healing prayers, and Gondrial ran to find Ianthill.

Dorenn tried to hold on to what he was seeing and feeling, but other images were clouding his mind. “What is happening?” he heard himself say.

As soon as they got Dorenn into bed aboard ship, Bren had Rennon fetch some water from the galley and told Vesperin to find more blankets.

“What is happening to me? Rennon?”

“Bren has gone to fetch you some water, Dorenn,” Rennon said. “Lie still and try not to talk.”

“What in the name of Ashonda is going on here?” Ianthill asked as he entered the room. Ianthill’s face was ashen, and sweat beaded up on his brow.

“I think he will be fine, Ianthill; it must have been all that ale,” Rennon said.

“Ale? How many did he have?”

“Three Lux Amarou Stout ales, I think,” said Gondrial.

“Aye, I believe that is the correct amount,” Bren said as he returned with a tankard of water.

“Lux Amarou ale! I am surprised he could walk,” Ianthill said.

Bren smiled. “Actually, I carried him.”

“I see,” Ianthill said as an unintentional sneer pursed his lips. “Well, I don’t think there is anything nefarious going on here; just a case of someone who cannot handle his ale.” He patted Dorenn on the head. “Get some sleep now, boy, if you can.”

Vesperin and Rennon stayed in the cabin with Dorenn while Bren took Gondrial and Ianthill aside. “You may want to speak to the captain, Master Ianthill.”

“Oh, why is that?” Ianthill inquired.

“After I carried Dorenn to his cabin, I went to fetch him some water. I found the captain had been preparing to leave. He had pulled the moorings but had not retracted the gangplank yet. I believe our sudden return from the tavern caught him off guard.”

Gondrial tugged at his goatee. “If he didn’t pull the gangplank first, he was probably trying to sneak off.”

“Aye, the crew was moving about, making ready to sail. I had a, well, let’s say discussion with the captain and first mate. They both should be conscious by now if you would like to question them.”

Ianthill smirked and patted the broodlord on the shoulder. “Well done, Bren. The speed of the dragon knight is legendary.” He turned to Gondrial. “Come with me, Gondrial, the captain has some explaining to do.”

Chapter 14: The Cave

Trendan watched as soldiers marched uniformly right up to the door of the Tiger’s Head Inn, just arriving from Seabrey to the north. With reports of the Scarovian army amassing just over the mountains, Trendan felt it was a good time to serve the army as a freelance scout. Brookhaven had been teaming with legions of soldiers for a week now, and the villagers were anxious to be rid of them. Lourn and Dellah still worried endlessly about Dorenn. In fact, ever since Trendan had returned with the news of the Dramyd attack, Lourn and Dellah constantly watched the west for signs of their son’s return. Fresh supply wagons sent from the Vale by Seancey were all but spent now, and the inn was sparse in goods and supplies. Lourn’s only supply line, despite the dangers, was a new peddler named Grentley that had taken up where Fadral had left off. Grentley put forth a grand effort, but he was always late, and his wares were second rate at best.

Trendan sat on the porch of the inn and lit a pipe as he watched the commanders line their men up for an impending inspection by General Andrathin Rellagorn, commander of the armies of the North and West. The general had arrived sometime during the night, and the soldiers had been maneuvering back and forth through the streets since daybreak.

After about half an hour with still no sign of the general, Trendan decided to go to the inn to see Dellah and Lourn. He had tried to make a point of visiting the couple every day to help reassure them Dorenn was well. When Trendan entered the inn, an overwhelming feeling of loss came over him. He could remember when the Tiger’s Head Inn’s afternoon patrons gathered to enjoy ale and merriment. Families from the village and surrounding farms would fill the inn to capacity, singing and talking. Now, it was mostly empty with only a few, usually drunken, patrons.

Dellah saw him enter, and she hurried to him to give him a big hug. “Any news yet of Dorenn?”

“None that I have heard,” Trendan said, saddened at seeing Dellah’s hopes fade.

She straitened Trendan’s tunic. “I was certain he would return at the news of Brookhaven being in such danger.”

Trendan swallowed hard. “I have come to say I will be scouting the mountains for the next week. I strongly suggest you and Lourn move along with the villagers heading west. It is not safe in Brookhaven any longer.”

Dellah smoothed out her apron anxiously. “Nonsense, this is my home. Lourn and I built it from the ground up, and I will not be forced out. What if Dorenn returns and he cannot find us?”

“Mistress Dellah,” Trendan pleaded, “if the army I have seen in the mountains comes this way, there may be no inn for Dorenn to come home to. He will know you moved west.”

“I will take my chances.”

“Your stubbornness could get you killed, mistress. What if Dorenn comes home to that?”

Dellah arched up. “Look who speaks to me so, Trendan Faylor. I have seen you knee high to a grasshopper, and I will not abide by that tone from you!”

“Forgive me, Mistress Dellah, I was merely concerned with your wellbeing.”

Dellah patted Trendan’s chest. “I know you were, lad. Now go and serve Symboria and make us all proud.”

Trendan kissed her forehead. “I will, mistress, I promise I will.”

Trendan reluctantly turned for the door.

“Trendan dear,” Dellah stopped him.

“Yes, mistress?” he answered.

“Who will be going along with you on your scouting trip?”

“Ganas Nashe, why?”

“Good, he is a strong lad; give him my best wishes as well.”

“I will, mistress,” Trendan said, and then he stepped out onto the porch.

Trendan checked his bow, adjusted his quiver, checked his sword, and headed to the outpost headquarters located in the oldest and largest house in Brookhaven.

Traditionally, the house was the home of Brookhaven’s town elder, but the village had built another house nearer to the town square for the elder to live in a few seasons ago. The old house consisted of one floor with four rooms of equal size. The outside of the house was a bit overgrown with brush and snake vines, and the thatched roof was virtually undistinguishable from the vines growing into it. The soldiers had cleared away the vines covering the front windows to allow the general to have a better view of the main cobblestone street.