The Dragon's Test (Book 3) (11 page)

“The other healers told me that there appears to be no change,” she said.

Marlin nodded. “We are doing our best,” he said.

The sorceress sat next to him quietly and looked down at his food. “Stew again,” she noted.

“We are a simple order,” Marlin explained. “We don’t often have larger feasts the way that nobles might.”

A cook came out from a room to the right and placed a bowl of stew in front of Lady Dimwater. She thanked him and waved her hand over the steaming bowl to cool it down enough for her to eat. She took a bite and then conjured a glass of absinthe and took a small sip. “Do you mind?” she asked Marlin.

He shrugged. “If Lepkin doesn’t wake soon, then perhaps you can start conjuring a bit of the stuff for me too,” he said.

Lady Dimwater chuckled to herself quietly and took another bite of stew. “What of your faith?” she asked. She didn’t mean to sound insulting, but she could tell by the way Marlin sighed that the comment didn’t quite sit right with him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to mock. It’s just that I don’t know how much longer I can remain sane while Lepkin lies in a bed, helpless.”

Marlin nodded knowingly. “My faith is still there, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have any doubts. Sometimes it is hard to walk forward in the darkness, hoping for a ray of light to come and end the black night.”

Lady Dimwater nodded and took another sip of her absinthe. “Perhaps they will find something in the library,” she said with feigned hope.

Marlin leaned back and dropped his hands into his lap. “How about you conjure me up a small shot of your favorite drink,” he stated dryly.

“I sent the messages,” Braun said.

Erik pushed back from the table. His plate of half-eaten eggs and bacon sat before him. “Thanks,” he offered.

“You should finish your breakfast,” Braun insisted.

“I am not hungry,” Erik replied. He stood up from the table and went to the open window. “The men have been working tirelessly, but we still have a long way to go to prepare the field.”

“All the more reason you should eat,” Braun said.

Erik turned back to Braun and shook his head. “Where do our preparations stand?”

“We have set the pikes,” Braun replied. “We have assembled a pair of catapults, and amassed a decent arsenal to use with those.”

“Has Demetrius finished the wind-lance?” Erik asked.

“No,” Braun said flatly. “He is working as quickly as possible, but he has to design it from scratch. As it is a weapon only found in legend, there are no plans or schematics to use.”

“Is it really so complicated?” Erik asked. “There are ballista schematics he could use.”

Braun shook his head. “No, a ballista fires a large projectile horizontally at ground troops. A wind-lance is a type of launcher that must be able to maneuver freely to follow a dragon’s flight. It is not simple at all.”

Erik nodded, as if he understood, but he didn’t. He turned back to the window and let it go. Surely Demetrius was doing his best, and questioning him about it would only halt any progress he was making. “Is the trench around the manor finished?”

“No, but we are close. Another two or three hours and we should have the circle completed. We have managed to set the tar-balls
.”

Erik smiled, those had been his idea. “And we have selected the archers who will fire the flaming arrows?”

“Yes,” Braun said. “As you suggested, we placed a tar-ball at the base of each hay stack in the field. Our archers will be able to hit them from the roof. They are there now, waiting for any sign of the enemy.”

“Good,” Erik said.

“I would caution one thing, however,” Braun said. “When the time comes to use the tar-balls, we should take note of which way the wind is blowing. I would advise to use the devices only if there is no wind, or if it is blowing away from the manor. If it is blowing toward the manor, the smoke screen will hinder us.”

Erik raise
d his brows. “Of course,” he said. “I assume you have already instructed the archers to act accordingly?”

“I have, but I still wanted to inform you of my decisions.”

“I appreciate that, but you are more experienced,” Erik said. “I will not question you.”

“Except for when I tell you to eat your breakfast?” Braun quipped.

Erik smiled. “Alright, I’ll finish the food.” He reached over and picked the plate up in his left hand. He tossed the cold bacon into his mouth, folding the strips over to make them fit. He chewed half-heartedly and then tipped the plate to allow the over-easy egg to slip off and into his waiting gullet. He barely chewed it more than twice before swallowing and washing it down with the last bit of his apple juice. “Happy?” Erik asked with a bit of yolk dribbling out the left corner of his mouth.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Braun said.

Erik shrugged and the two walked out of the dining hall and into the front foyer of the manor. Their steps echoed through the halls. The front door opened, throwing the early morning light into the foyer. Erik looked up to see a tall woman with golden, braided hair laid casually over her right shoulder. A bow was slung over her back and a sleek, curved scimitar hung from her hip. She wore a forest green tunic and brown trouser, with black boots that had long ago lost their sheen under a film of dust and dirt.

A
Lokton guard walked in after her. “Presenting Lady Arkyn,” he said officially to Braun.

“Yes,” she said coyly. “We have met before,” she told the guard.

He waited for Braun’s signal, and then the guard bowed his head and backed out through the front door, closing it after him.

“What can House Lokton do for you?” Braun asked.

She looked to Erik for a moment and smiled faintly. “I come seeking refuge for the wounded, and to add my blade to yours,” Lady Arkyn said with a slight bow.

“The wounded?” Erik said confused.

Lady Arkyn straightened up and nodded her head. “We were attacked at Kuldiga Academy. Some of us managed to escape, but we also carry wounded along with us.”

“Braun, why have you not called for me?” Lady Lokton asked from the top of the stairs.

Erik caught Braun blush just before bowing in deference to Lady Lokton. “My apologies, our guest has only just arrived. I was about to call for you.”

“I heard the guard say your name was Lady Arkyn, is that correct?” Lady Lokton asked. She started down the stairs, using the hand rail to guide her.

Even before she was near, Erik could see his mother’s puffy, red eyes behind the black veil of lace. He looked to the floor and stepped aside to let her talk with Lady Arkyn.

“That is correct,” Lady Arkyn said. “I am one of the instructors at Kuldiga Academy.

“Who attacked you?” Lady Lokton asked.

“It was Senator Bracken,” Lady Arkyn said.

Erik and Braun exchanged glances. “Senator Bracken?” Braun asked.

Lady Arkyn nodded, staring firmly into his eyes. “It was him,” she said.

“Why would he attack Kuldiga Academy?” Lady Lokton asked.

“Because I attacked him,” Erik said truthfully. Lady Lokton turned on him and stared into his eyes. He was certain she would be able to see who he was. It had to be obvious to her then, as they stood silently, locked in a gaze that seemed to last a lifetime. Would she hate him? Would she strike him? Would she be able to forgive him for failing to rescue his father?

“Master Lepkin nearly killed him,” Braun put in. His interruption disrupted the stare and Lady Lokton looked to Braun expectantly.

“
Nearly
killed him?” she said questioningly. “What does that mean?”

“It means he uses powerful magic,” Braun replied. “He was able to escape.” He didn’t offer any more of an explanation than that, for which Erik was grateful.

“I see,” she said. “Well, don’t just stand there. The lady said they have wounded. Go and get them and give them beds.”

“My lady, it would be be
tter to move them with the evacuation,” Braun said.

Lady Lokton snorted, not in a haughty, condescending way, but out of resignation. “Do whatever suits you, then,” she said. Her eyes looked off to some distant point and she slowly made her way back to the stairs.

Braun bowed his head briefly and then turned back to Lady Arkyn. “The wounded who cannot travel may stay with us, but I cannot guarantee their safety.”

“We are all staying,” Lady Arkyn countered. “We have lost friends already, and we’ll not be put out of the fight now.”

Braun leaned back and glanced to Erik. A grin crept across his face and he nodded his approval. “We could always use the extra help,” he said.

“Was a dragon with him?” Erik asked.

Lady Arkyn turned and knit her brow. “Are you expecting one?” she asked.

Erik nodded his head. “We went to Senator
Bracken’s house. We were met by a servant he had trapped there. It turns out that he is actually a warlock who has assumed the form of Senator Bracken.”

“By the Ancients,” Lady Arkyn muttered.

“That isn’t the worst part,” Erik continued. “The warlock is allied with a dragon.”

Lady Arkyn sucked in a breath. “Then, there is no time to waste. I will bring everyone inside. With your permission, we could use a bit of food before we join the others outside in preparing the house.”

Braun nodded. “Anyone who raises a blade with me is my brother, or sister as it were,” he said. “Feel free to help yourselves and ask the kitchen staff for what you need.”

The front door opened again and in walked a man with long black robes, propping Orres up with Orres’ thick arm draped over his shoulders.

“Lepkin,” Orres said gruffly. “We don’t have much time.”

Erik sucked in a breath. At once he felt both relieved, and angered by Orres’ presence. He wasn’t sure whether to welcome him into his home, or to expel him for what he had seen in his journal. Orres noted Erik’s silence and studied him. Erik looked to the bandages, each stained dark with dried blood.

“Master Orres, welcome,” Braun said, breaking the silence.

“I may not be much for fighting, but I am here to offer whatever is left of me,” Orres said.

“Master Lepkin asked whether we saw a dragon,” Lady Arkyn put in.

Orres shook his head. “No, but the senator obviously has something else up his sleeve.” He turned to the man holding him up. “Tell him, Wendal.”

“I think the senator is working with a necromancer,” Wendal said softly. “Or, perhaps he is one himself.” Erik turned to look at Braun for a moment. Braun cocked a brow and nodded.

“That would fit with what I found at the senator’s home,” Erik said. “I stumbled upon some personal effects at the senator’s home that might help us understand our enemy.”

“First,” Lady Arkyn cut in. “You should know that the senator is dead, and we were attacked by a warlock that is impersonating him.”

Orres and Wendal glanced to her and then back to Erik for confirmation.

“It’s true,” Erik said.

“A copy of Aikur’s War was found along with some mementos of a family that has long been dead,” Braun added. “Actually it i
s my belief that the warlock is Master Pemo.”

“Pemo,” Wendal repeated solemnly. “If that is true, then we are in a lot of trouble.”

“Who is Pemo?” Orres asked. “I don’t recognize that name.”

Braun nodded. “We found a letter from a Governor Randal that informed Pemo that his wife son had been slain by a band of Tarthun raiders while Master Pemo was
in service at the border.”

“Governor Randal,” Orres said under his breath as a wave of recognition washed over him. “I know that story. About thirty years ago Governor Randal was killed by a wizard that served in his court. Governor Randal had the duty of overseeing part of the border to the east and protecting the kingdom from Tarthun invaders.”

“Exactly,” Wendal said. “Except he failed because he spent more time trying to romance his wizard’s wife while he sent the wizard on dangerous assignments.”

Erik nodded. “We think the warlock who impersonates Senator Bracken, is this rogue wizard. We found numerous books on necromancy in the warlock’s library as well.”

“So he wants to bring his family back from the dead,” Orres said.

“That’s what we think,” Erik confirmed.

Wendal nodded and put a finger to his chin. “That would explain why he was working with necromancy.”

“We don’t know if he is Master Pemo
,” Orres said. “A letter and a few books found in a man’s home doesn’t tell us everything.”

“True,” Erik said. “It would have been better if we had found his journal, then we could have learned all of his secrets.” He looked hard at Orres.

The big man returned the stare for several moments, as if the two were locked in a silent argument which could only be lost by blinking or turning away. Erik forgot all others in the foyer then, as he recalled how the journal detailed Orres underhanded dealings to win Lady Dimwater away from Lepkin.

“Well,” Orres said after a minute. “I suppose it matters little now. He is likely not far behind. If he is working with necromancy, then the only way to win the battle will be to get to him and kill him.”

Erik shook his head and turned away. “I did find your journal, Master Orres.” Erik blurted over his shoulder. “When this is over, we have something else to settle,” he said as he walked away.

“She never loved me,” Orres called out.

Erik froze in his steps, but kept his back to Orres. “Then why interfere?” he asked.

“Because I never loved anyone else,” Orres replied. “I only ever had eyes for her.”

Erik turned around and walked back to the group. “You say this now?” Erik chided.

Orres slid his arm off of Wendal and struggled to stand on his own. The grimace on his face showed that he was hardly fit to be moving, let alone fighting. “I never claimed to be a perfect man,” he said. His shoulders slumped, and there seemed to be very little of Master Orres left in this hulking body before Erik. The fire was gone from his eyes, and the strength that had always been evident in his booming voice, had been stripped from him.

Erik thought back to Lepkin’s lessons. What good would it do to rebuke Orres here, now? Why break the man down? It wasn’t even
Erik
that Orres had wronged, so why was Erik making it so personal? He sighed and hung his head low for a moment. He had to think beyond himself. He looked back up to Orres and offered a smile. “Let us focus on the task at hand,” Erik said. “Let us fight side by side when the enemy comes.”

“Can you so easily forget?” Orres asked.