The D'Karon Apprentice (2 page)

“I doubt
anyone
could record matters
as thoroughly as
you’d
like. But where are my manners? I
mustn’t forget your steed! Welcome, Myn! Let us give you a
scratch!”

The dragon lowered her head until her chin
rested firmly on the ground, offering up her brow for one-half of
the customary reward for a job well done. Caya gave the creature a
good firm rub over the eyes and a pat on the head for good measure.
When she stopped, Myn’s beautiful golden eyes slid open with an
accusing look, wordlessly suggesting that a few more rubs might be
in order. Myranda happily supplied them as the queen turned toward
the inn.

“I must compliment you on your punctuality. I
trust your journey was pleasant enough,” Caya said, stepping
briskly through the parted crowd.

Townspeople, still more intrigued by the
arrival of the dragon than their monarch, attempted to close in
again, trapping Myranda in the process. They quickly changed their
minds when Myn released a satisfied sigh from Myranda’s vigorous
affections. One tends to treat the breath of a creature with great
respect when there is a better than average chance it could burn
one to a crisp. When Myranda was through, Myn raised her head. The
motion was more than enough to finally convince those lingering
around them to view the spectacle from a safer distance. Myranda
took advantage of the dispersing crowd to catch up with Caya, who
had continued speaking as though there was no doubt her guests had
remained beside her.

“The trip was glorious, Caya. You really
ought to let Myn give you a ride,” Myranda said.

“Ah ha, no. Once on the back of a winged
beast was more than enough for me. These feet stay on the
ground.”

“Is Croyden not with you?” Myranda asked,
glancing to the carriage.

The queen, as was to be expected, had quite
an entourage, but the elf she had taken as an informal consort was
notably absent.

“Someone needs to see to the affairs of the
palace. He’s really rather skilled at the assorted drudgery of
leadership. That’s a military man for you. He did, however,
handpick a keeper to look after me, see to my affairs, and see to
it that I don’t do
too
much to embarrass the crown. Myranda,
Deacon, meet Khryss.”

She gestured to a gentleman emerging from the
carriage. He had an uneasy look on his face, the expression of a
man who had been tasked with “handling” a woman who was
simultaneously the most politically powerful and most headstrong
individual in half a continent. He was portly, exceedingly neat,
and dressed in manner calculated to be precisely proper for an
individual in his role. This included a fine robe that hung almost
to the ground and an exquisitely made satchel hanging by his
side.

“Khryss, see to it that Myn is cared for
while Myranda, Deacon, and I work through some matters of state. I
presume that a meeting room has been prepared for us?”

“The room, of course, has been waiting for
our arrival, Your Majesty. The, err, the dragon…”

“She is quite easy to care for, as I recall.
Plenty of meat, plenty of water, and as many potatoes as you can
get your hands on,” Caya said dismissively.

Khryss looked uneasily at the beast, who had
been staring hungrily in his direction since the mention of the
words “meat” and “potatoes.” Myranda placed a steadying hand on his
shoulder.

“Myn, this man will show you where to wait
for us. Behave yourself. I’ll be out just as soon as I can,”
Myranda said. She turned to Khryss. “She’s quite sweet. You needn’t
worry.”

“But… do mind her tail,” Deacon added
quietly.

Caya and her associates slipped inside,
followed by Tus and four other guards. The carriage was guided to
the stables, and the locals decided there was very little to be
gained by standing outside an inn while a hungry dragon was about.
This left Khryss and a single guard alone with the beast. He looked
up at Myn. Her head towered above him at the end of a powerful,
serpentine neck. There was nothing
threatening
about her
gaze… but it was most certainly locked on Khryss. He reluctantly
turned from the creature and scanned the market, spotting a butcher
shop not far from the inn. He turned back to Myn to find she’d
lowered her head, meeting him eye to eye and rumbling hungrily.

Khryss abandoned dignity, lifting the hems of
his long robe to practically sprint to the butcher. He slipped
inside to find the proprietor hard at work dividing an elk into
steaks.

“I need meat, good sir,” Khryss said
quickly.

“Certainly,” remarked the butcher without
looking up. “How much?”

Khryss pushed the door open to find that Myn
had followed him. She peered inside with interest. Khryss eyed her
shakily.

“Rather a lot of it, I would imagine.”

#

Inside Merrimead’s, after Caya’s arrival and
enthusiasm for an audience had finished whipping the clientele into
a frenzy, the group was led to a small, comfortable room with a
table and a few chairs. Oil lanterns filled the windowless room
with a warm glow, and a secure brace hung on the door. The guards
took up positions outside the door, with the exception of Tus, who
joined them inside. A pair of servers set a tray of dried meat and
cheese before them as well as a bottle of wine, a few plates, and a
few tankards. With that, they were left to their business, the door
firmly secured from the inside.

“I don’t know that I’ll ever become
accustomed to this,” Myranda said, taking a piece of cheese. “For
so long I hadn’t a clue where my next meal would come from. Now I
needn’t even ask.”

“One of the few benefits of the title that
lives up to its expectations,” Caya said after filling a tankard
and draining it. “Though their spirits do tend to be a bit
spineless. So Myranda, tell me, how are things in Kenvard?”

“They are moving, albeit slowly,” she said.
“My father is overseeing the reconstruction of the old capital. We
both feel the people deserve a city to call their own once
again.”

“A good, strong fortified city near the
Tresson border wouldn’t hurt either,” Caya said.

“Peace takes work, and it takes trust,”
Myranda said. “The Tressons don’t want to lose another generation
to war any more than we do.”

“I’ll concede that, but the facts of the
matter are that the Tressons won’t
need
to lose a generation
if they decide to go to war with us again. As wonderful from them
as it is to be free of the D’Karon, they
were
rather
effective at keeping the Tresson troops at bay. We wouldn’t last
long in another offensive without their help.”

“Another offensive?” Deacon said. “Have
things truly degraded so far so quickly that there might be another
war? The Battle of Verril was barely half a year ago.”

The Battle of Verril was the name given to
the crescendo of the Perpetual War, an assault on the Northern
Alliance’s capital and northernmost city. Myranda, Myn, and the
rest of the Chosen had joined with Caya and her band of rebels to
take the capital from the D’Karon generals. With them defeated,
their troops quickly fell and the control of the kingdom returned
to its people.

“A long war makes for a short armistice,”
Caya muttered.

“Things were going so well at the discussions
just a few weeks ago,” Myranda said.

“Much can happen in a few weeks,” Caya said,
filling her tankard again. She took a sip and sighed. “Much
did
happen, or so they say. Listen carefully; what I am
about to say is
not
for common knowledge. There are
concerns, concerns from quite high in the Tresson government, that
this peace is a ruse. They have accused us of at
least
not
being in control of our units, and at
worst
outright
assaulting them in defiance of the truce.”

“That’s absurd,” Myranda said. “The troops on
both sides have been ordered to stand down. The borders are
open
again, at least near the larger cities. Outside of a
few skirmishes between excitable soldiers, there hasn’t been a
blade wielded in anger since we reclaimed Verril.”

Caya gestured for something from Tus.
“Soldiers aren’t the problem.” Tus handed her a bundle of
parchments. “These come directly from the Tresson contingent,
assembled by them from a few scattered reports in the deep southern
portions of their kingdom.”

Myranda took the parchments and began to read
through them, Deacon doing the same with a second set. “‘It was a
creature, like a dragon, but not. A mockery of one. It breathed
stinking black mist that burned all it touched.’”

“‘It looked to be a cape or robe, but no one
wore it. It drifted about, slashing at things with bony claws…’”
Deacon said.

“Sound familiar?” Caya said, topping off her
tankard and leaning back in her chair.

“Dragoyles, cloaks,” Myranda said, “D’Karon
creations.”

“And more of the same,” said Deacon, leafing
through the pages.

“Mmm. As I said, these come from the deep
south. Far from the front. None of these people have
seen
dragoyles and cloaks. They’ve heard stories, rumors, but they can’t
be certain that it wasn’t some other creature, or perhaps something
imagined. But the Tresson military is not pleased and doesn’t
intend to take any risks. Tell me. Is it possible some of the
D’Karon creatures survived the last few months?”

“It is possible, certainly. Ether spent
months
exterminating them, but she could have missed some.
But the D’Karon creatures have only ever been found in the Northern
Alliance. Why would they be in Tressor but not here?”

“Such was my question to the Tresson army. If
these demons were ours to command, and we could sneak them past the
border and strike at the
flanks
of their kingdom, why
wouldn’t we have done so a century ago? Why now, when the war has
ended? Unfortunately the simple answer is difficult to argue. As
you’ve said, the borders are open. Debate aside, there remains the
more troubling question. Is it possible that the D’Karon
themselves
might have survived. Might they still be here? It
had been in their interest to start the war. It would
certainly
be in their interest to start it anew.”

“It is possible…” Myranda said. “There’s only
one way to be sure. We need to go to Tressor. We need to learn for
ourselves the nature of these attacks and the creatures
responsible.”

Caya nodded. “Agreed. That is why I called
you here.” She took back the pages and placed them on a plate, then
touched the flame of an oil lamp to them and watched them burn.
“For the moment the Tressons are as interested in foregoing war as
we are. They have their doubts about our stories of the D’Karon.
Most still believe the nearmen, dragoyles, and other monstrosities
that held our front and ravaged their soldiers were the work of
powerful Northern sorcerers. As a result, they believe if the war
were to begin again, they would be once again faced with an endless
horde of the things. They don’t realize we are effectively helpless
right now. A rare instance where distrust is the only thing keeping
us from ruin. To keep the swords in their sheaths, the Tressons are
keeping these attacks as quiet as they can. I’ve arranged for a
diplomatic tour of Tressor for you, Deacon, and Myn. You’ll be
escorted, naturally, and very closely watched. While you are there,
you must do everything in your power to preserve peace and to find
the source of these attacks. For the next few weeks at the
very
least, I will be at the temporary hall down at Five
Point discussing the details of the relations between our kingdoms.
If anything goes wrong, I will do my best to keep the world from
catching flame. But unlike you, I do not work miracles.”

“Caya, I cannot work miracles either,”
Myranda said.

“Bah! Save the humility for behind the podium
and in front of the crowd. With drink on the table and friends at
your side, that’s the time to be boastful,” Caya said. “I need to
see you confident, Myranda. Like so many other things you’ve been
tasked with, we can’t afford failure.”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Myranda said.

“As ever, we can only hope that will be
enough. I’ll be heading to the front tomorrow… or rather, the
border.
I’d best avoid more slips like
that
if I’ll
be speaking in the interest of peace. If the weather is with me,
I’ll reach Five Point in a week. Do you believe you can be ready
and to the border at that time?”

“It depends, the border is still in flux a
bit near Kenvard. Would we be crossing at that new settlement,
Crestview? That’s just a few hours south of Kenvard.”

Queen Caya scowled slightly. “I know… but no,
you’ll be heading for the Loom River. Farther east, where the
border dips down.”

“Ah. I believe so. We’ll need to stop back at
New Kenvard to gather some things and ready our affairs to be
handled in our absence, and there are some matters farther north
that will need to be seen to, but with Myn, if we leave today, it
shouldn’t take long. Pardon me for asking, but if it is your
intention to present this as a diplomatic tour, why have you
arranged for Myn to join us?”

“Officially because she is a Heroine of the
Battle of Verril and a Guardian of the Realm. As such she is a
symbol of our people and a representative of the throne just as the
two of you are. The Tressons are going to have to accept that.”

“And unofficially?” Myranda asked.

Caya took a sip of wine. “Unofficially, it
never hurts to remind a former foe that you’ve got a dragon and
you’re willing to use it.”

“Well, I can’t argue the fact that having her
along will help enormously if we need to travel or fight, but don’t
you think she’ll cause a bit of a stir in Tressor?”

“She causes a bit of a stir
here
.
Tressor’s got their own dragons. I understand to keep things even
they’ll actually be assigning one of their famed Dragon Riders to
your escort. The matter has been settled. However… there is one
more complicating factor.”