Samual (33 page)

“The strangest branch of the whole copse is that we have never seen a single man or elf with any of them. No one leads them. The ships seem to sail themselves. Certainly there is no one at the helm, and the steel servants unload themselves. Their master may not even be on the ships. No more is he in Shavarra, though even now the rats gather there and in the large towns. They are slowly amassing their numbers, presumably readying themselves for the next big battle.”

“And are they truly golems? Or do you call them machina?” Everyone turned to stare disapprovingly at Sam as he asked the question he most badly wanted answered. The shadelings obviously wanted nothing more than to forget he even existed, while the elders were upset at having their conversation interrupted. But he still had to ask. Especially when he had no idea just how much these people might know of such things. He suspected it might be more than would seem probable. After all, he didn't know how they knew what they had already revealed.

The shadelings were a contradiction in many ways. Though they professed to follow the ways of the forest and forego the tenants of civilization, they still clearly had both strong magic and considerable learning at their disposal. That surely involved reading and the written word, yet he couldn't imagine any of these people ever having owned a book, let alone read one. He couldn't answer the riddle but regardless he still thought that they might know more than others would expect. If they knew of what was happening hundreds and thousands of leagues away, did they also know of the ancient past? Did they know of the Dragon Wars and the machina?

“You speak of the Dragon, and you may have good reason. Though our legends of the Dragon Wars are little more than rhymes and fire side tales, we know enough to know that these are no mere golems. The magic and alchemy that is behind them is without peer. It has not been seen before in our lifetime. Yes. They are machina as far as we can tell, but we have not tried to divine their nature. Only to escape or destroy them.”

“As have we.”

“Our most ancient stories tell of the cavern of the Dragon where he created the machina. Andrea, home of the dark death. Perhaps more answers will be found there, though it is a long and difficult journey. But if this is the Dragon returned, you will need more than answers. You will need allies. The ancient tales spoke of the Dragon's army being fought by the dragons themselves. Of their flaming breath scorching the machina on the ground and in the air. Perhaps seeking them out would be a wise strategy, especially when others have already explored the cavern and found little.”

Wise perhaps Sam thought, but also a lot more dangerous even than facing the enemy unarmed. Never trust a dragon. And never disturb one. That was something every child knew.

Though the entire continent was named for the dragons – it was the Continent of the Dragon's Spine after all, and the dozen southern island nations were collectively known as the Dragon's Claws – that was purely because of the shapes the lands made on a chart. It had not been named out of respect for the great creatures. They weren't respected. They were feared.

Most dragons were solitary creatures, living out their unending lives sleeping in great mountain caves. They didn't care to be disturbed. Mostly they only ventured out to catch a meal – a troll or an ogre or two – and then returned to sleep for a few more months or years. And that was the way anyone with any sense would like it.

Though dragons were powerful and intelligent creatures who might be willing to fight if their home and kin were threatened, they were far from friendly, and only a fool or someone truly desperate would seek them out. And most of those who did would die. But it was news to him that they had fought the machina before. The books and scrolls had said they had attacked them, but only when the machina had entered their caverns, not as part of any organised campaign. That too was something to ponder later.

“There is one more thing you should know. One more thing we have seen, a thing which we would have you know. Not all that they attack are killed. Some from Shavarra – and we would guess, some from Ragnor's Rock – were taken back in chains to the ships. Perhaps only a few dozen, perhaps more. We do not know how many, nor why. We do not know what the enemy does with them. But we fear it. That even more than the rest.”

Sam could understand why. A shiver went down his spine at the thought of hostages being taken by whatever enemy it was that they were facing. Someone so evil would most certainly not treat them well.

“And do –”

“No!”

The Wisdom's tone suddenly became forceful, even though he did not raise his voice in the slightest, and Sam knew the conversation such as it had been, was over. So did the other shadelings as they stood once more to attention, preparing either to attack or leave. Even they, he guessed, weren't quite sure which.

“Now all is said. All know the same as we wanted. But be warned. Though this enemy must be fought by all if any of our people are to survive, this does not make us friends. It only means we share a common enemy. Our truce will continue for now, but we do not seek more of your presence. We will hold to the old ways, and if more is learnt we will send word. But other than that we seek only to be left alone as always. It is time for you to return to your people, as it is time for us to leave as well.”

It was some sort of signal. And even as Elder Bela looked to be about to object, the shadelings vanished in front of them. A quick step backwards perhaps, into a tree or a shrub, and they were gone as if they had never been there. It looked for all the world like magic, and yet Sam had the strangest feeling that it was simply practice and the outfits they wore. The forest was their home, and they truly had become a part of it.

In a matter of heartbeats they were alone.

“That was quick.” Wyldred spoke for them all as he too looked around, trying desperately to find even a trace of them and failing. “Do we wait, cook some tea and see if they return?”

“No.”

Sam, and he guessed the War Master too, was relieved to have Elder Bela dismiss the idea so quickly. Neither of them truly wanted to stay in these dark woods any longer than they had to.

“Everything has been said and we have been dismissed. And though the Pact of Whisparal has been spoken and accepted, I would rather not rely on it for any longer than I have to. We are at best unwelcome guests in their territory, and it might be wisest to leave before our presence becomes an affront to them.”

The Elder didn't have to do much persuading. It was late, and though they had set up camp for another night when the shadelings had arrived, suddenly both Sam and Wyldred felt that a few more hours travel might well be in order before they retired. In short order they had all their belongings packed up again, the fire was well and truly out, and they were making their way back through the forest. Back to the clearing where they'd left the horses.

Back to safety.

It was a strange thing Sam decided as he walked in silence with the others. Some allies were more worrisome than your enemies.

“I think we have company.”

Sam looked up from the surrounding mountains to see that Wyldred was right. On the crest of the nearby grassy hill, coming at them fast were three riders. Yet even from the moment he saw them, Sam wasn't worried. He could tell they were elves. They wore the typical white elven armour, and all had long bows slung across their shoulders. He felt nothing threatening about them. That was a pleasant change after the forest they had just left where with every footstep he had imagined one of the shadelings was just behind him, waiting to stick a knife in his back. Or a snap wolf was about to leap on him. They weren't a friendly people and they had ample cause to dislike him. They would make dangerous enemies. Far more dangerous than the armies of assassins he had already faced over the years.

But wasn't that the way of life? There was no safety. There was no one who could not be killed. He had become one of the most powerful spell casters of fire there was. A truly dangerous wizard. He could fight an army if he had to. But now he had become even more vulnerable than before, with a potential enemy he did not even know how to face. Best that he not provoke them.

“Messengers?”

“In a way.” It was Elder Bela who answered the question. “Though I think the message they bring might be best stated as ‘how dare you just wander off and leave us like that!'”

“Hmm?”

“The lady in the middle. That's my wife Ellise, and I would assume that I'm in trouble.”

Sam stared at the Elder in surprise, for long moments wondering if he had heard him correctly. Somehow he'd simply never thought of Bela as the marrying type. And certainly the Elder had said nothing to him of his family as they'd travelled. Meanwhile on the other side, Wyldred was making strangled noises as he clearly tried to hold back laughter and failed. He at least should have known better.

“I wouldn't laugh so loudly my old friend. The lady on the grey is Amerindel, and you're in the same trouble.”

“Oh!”

Sam would have laughed in turn as Wyldred practically chocked on his own laughter, except that he suddenly realised that the third horse was a large black steed, surely one of Tyla's kin. Which meant, he suddenly realised that the rider had to be Ryshal. It would be just like her to do something so foolish as to ride off into unknown territory to meet him when she was still not fully recovered. But he couldn't blame her for it.

Without even thinking about it, he spurred Tyla into a gallop and they all raced directly for the riders, Sam screaming Ryshal's name at the top of his lungs all the way. Beside him, Wyldred and Bela did the same, and the gap between them shrank surprisingly quickly. It had been a long five days apart from their families.

Less than a heartbeat later all three men were holding their wives tight and kissing them soundly as they no doubt deserved. It had to be the best possible reward for a successful mission. 

“I love you.” They both spoke the words together, knowing they were true, and then kissed some more. It was a long time before either could pay any attention to the others, and then it was only to see that they were doing much the same. Except that for the elders, there was an eye opening difference. Elder Bela was being alternately kissed, hugged and thumped by his wife, and he wasn't lucky enough to be wearing any armour. Meanwhile War Master Wyldred was on the receiving end of a tongue lashing, and losing badly. Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he saw the two elders being publicly abused.

“Don't laugh too loudly my love. You have much apologising to do as well.” But Ry kissed him again to make sure he knew she wasn't angry.

“Until the day I die.” He meant it too. Leaving Ry had been the hardest thing, and he never wanted to do it again, even though he realised that he would probably have to. They both did. It was a soldier's lot.

“Where did you get the armour?” He was curious. It was the simple, white stuff that a town guard might have, suitable for taking a blow from a drunk, not the heavier, more defensive and coloured armour of the various border patrols, but still he hadn't realised she had any.

“It's my mother's. When we heard you were near, Ellise decided she'd had enough waiting around for you all to return. So Mother gave it to me, unhitched Aegis, and we took off after her. Amerindel joined us before we'd made it half a league, and we've been riding ever since. It's been a good day.”

“That it has.” Not only because Ry was once again back with him, but because she looked so healthy and happy. It had only been five days, but he could see some real colour in her cheeks, and feel some true strength in her arms as she held him. Ryshal had been making noises for some days about returning to her duties as a teacher, and for the first time he started to think she might almost be strong enough. And by the All Father did he love to see her dance. There was true artistry in her feet.

“The front of the caravan's six or seven leagues back, and the Council wants to see you all the moment you return. We though wanted to see you first. We also wanted to find out what sort of trouble you'd got yourself in.”

“No trouble at all love. Except that I have to replant an entire forest in Shavarra if I want to keep on breathing.”

“What?”

“I'll tell you about it later beloved.” And then he picked her up and kissed her again for good measure. The forest could wait. In fact everything could wait.

It was barely late morning, a long way still to lunch, however the women decided it was time to eat. And as Sam was beginning to realise, what Ryshal wanted she mostly got. In the end he was only the husband in the marriage!

In short order they found themselves sitting around a small camp fire eating the breads and meats the women had thoughtfully brought with them, and telling tall, and plainly ludicrous tales of their adventures with the shadelings. Tales that became ever more fanciful as the telling progressed. In fact they sounded like the tales told by those worshipping Vineus, the Lord of Wine.

The strange thing was that even as they peopled their adventures with giants and ogres – and even some unicorns and flying pixies for good measure, they also managed to leave out all the important bits. Neither Bela, nor Wyldred, nor even himself, even touched on what they had been told of the enemy, or what they had learned of Ragnor's Rock. None of them mentioned the people who had been abducted by this new Dragon. And none spoke of the war to come. Those were things perhaps best left for another time. They were matters both serious and dark. This was not the time for either of those things.