Dragon Choir (6 page)

She rode
ahead, following the old trail to where it rejoined the main road
between Rum Hill and Calimska. North Eye stood alone atop a small
hill cleared of trees. Warm light flickered through arrow loops and
high windows. A timber stockade encircled the tower with torches
lit around the perimeter.

They would
have to hurry past the Jandan outpost to avoid detection. A bright
flickering light caught her eye, pulsing out a complex series of
flashes from somewhere up in the mountains. Had the Jandans spotted
the ambush through the canopy of the forest?

The beacon on
the North Eye pulsed a quick response then four pigeons were
released. They circled around the tower several times before
heading east. Two horsemen galloped out of the stockade and down
the hill, heading right for her at the junction. They had been
discovered. The Jandans knew. There must be a traitor in Wendal’s
crew.

If anyone had
witnessed the ambush and given word, they would have to scrap the
entire mission. Without cover from the Jandan caravan and its
cargo, they would draw unwanted attention in Rum Hill.

The stowaway.
Minni had forgotten all about him.

Wendal was
right. Kobb double-crossed them. Mongrel! The Council would have
sent a redeemer if they knew. At best the stowaway was just an
agent, hitching a ride home. The Jandan guard sergeant must have
known about the stowaway all along. She was a fool. She thought to
protect him, even feed the little bastard. Perhaps he had escaped
after the attack; made a break for North Eye to warn them?

No, Wendal
placed lookouts all through the forest, so he would never have made
it to the keep. Then again, if he was a redeemer, he might have
magicked a message and remained concealed. Ash it all. Wendal’s
entire crew would be dead before she rode back to warn them.

Even if she
dared ride back and check the caravan, the outriders from the
Jandan tower would spot her fleeing and become suspicious. If the
stowaway was a redeemer, there was little she could do; the dog
would have stripped their souls and gnawed their bones; he would be
too powerful to overcome.

There was no
time to dwell on the worst. Minni calmed her breathing and
refocussed. She dismounted, inspecting the foreleg of her horse.
With a tap of her mare’s caramel shoulder, the horse held its hoof
off the ground as though it were injured.

“
That’s my girl,” Minni gave her mare a lump of sugar. “Hold
steady.”

The two
outriders hurtled down the path, hooves beating the ground and
throwing up sod. One of the riders thundered past, following the
road to Rum Hill without slowing. The other eased up and stopped
without moving for his blade.

Thank the
Welcome Stranger. Luck was with her still.

“
Swap horses?” Minni flashed a tight smile up at the rider.
Moonlight glossed across his chainmail, but was swallowed by the
black star embroidered on his blue surcoat.

The soldier
grinned and slapped his thigh. “I’ve just seen a bounty that would
buy you a paddock full.” His breath reeked.

“
Why? Someone find a king to kill?” Minni laughed off her
nerves with the rum filled Jandan.

“
Who cares what he did. The bounty’s more than any rebel head
will fetch. Lord’s truth, it’s more than what’s on Scrambletoe.
Someone’s gone and pissed off Calimska’s high and mighty
Guildmaster. Ha! The famous Golden Shield, imagine that. All that
unholy sorcery and he can’t even catch a street rat.”

“
What’s this rat look like?”

“
Young fella. Dark hair, brown eyes and tall.”

“
So, like every other Calimskan.” Minni shook her head. Some
dead letter this will be.

“
That’s it though, isn’t it? How many stray Calimskan’s you
see this time a year? They all live the good life up in that golden
nest. Count their glitter while we all get fried by the dragons.
This pup’s got no chance.”

“
How much is the bounty exactly?”

“
Chest of gold and rights to land and title by the
Guildmaster.” The rider leered. “Anything interesting on the way
down then? We could share the pot.”

“
The only shiners I’ve seen were headed home to their
families. I won’t keep you from yours.”

“
Fancy a ride with me before my ship sails? It’s sure not safe
out here in the night for a pretty lady.”

“
Tend to your own. I can look after myself.” Minni drew her
blade from behind her saddle to establish an
understanding.

The soldier
pulled his horse out of range. “Want to play highwayman? I’ve shell
for whores and steel for thieves. Which is it then?”

Minni was
happy for the opportunity to paint his grin red. She was no longer
a toy for Jandan pleasure.

The caravan
rattled its way up the rise.

Minni kept her
eyes on the soldier, her hand on her blade.

He turned his
horse, checking his chances between Minni and the caravan.

“
Take the dead letter home soldier. Give bread to your wife.”
Minni drew a dagger from under her sleeve. With the comfort of a
blade in each hand she relaxed her body, ready to kill.

“
Your bones be bagged, witch.” The soldier dug in his spurs
and galloped his steed down the road following the other rider to
Rum Hill.

Minni sheathed
her blades. The caravan rolled to a stop at the junction and a
rebel disguised as a Jandan guard approached Minni.

“
Commander?”

“
A dead letter is on the march, something special to get the
dogs barking.” Minni patted her mare’s shoulder again and the mock
lame hoof returned to the grass.

“
Not for one of us?” The guard’s eyes followed the soldier as
he rode in the distance. “Is the rider a problem?”

“
No, let him go, he’s not a threat. Though there may be
trouble with our cargo. We have a stowaway.” Minni gave another
sugar lump to her horse and mounted.

“
Ma’am?” The guard drew his sword.

“
Stay your blade. I suspect he’s another bird, flown the
golden nest.”

“
One for the flock?”

“
Maybe so; I want eyes on him and see he doesn’t fly off into
harm’s way. With a bounty that big and North Eye quick to take
notice, we’ve landed a prize worth at least double what the golden
city has on offer. Continue to the Crab and Petrel, no stopping;
the horses are eager. Three of you at point. Report as needed, no
more.”

The caravan
rattled down the road to the coast. Minni rode out ahead of the
wagons, tallying her victories for the day and marking the
oddities. The more she thought about each happenstance, the more
the mysterious stowaway increased in value.

CHAPTER FIVE

Stowaway

Elrin’s body
was wracked with tremors. He was cold all over, yet his heart
seared; cooking him from the inside out. His robes were a false
comfort from the chills, only serving to soak up his perspiration.
He huddled in a quivering ball. Overcome with exhaustion and lulled
by the rocking of the wagon, he drifted into a fitful
sleep.

The guard he
killed had bled out and the baked earth drank it down. The woman
with eyes of spring and hair like autumn pulled him into her
chambers, brushing her body close to his. She left him yearning and
blocked the exit while men screamed outside and a red slick pooled
under the door. Unseen forces closed on him, barricaded him in. He
couldn’t run. He couldn’t breath.

Elrin woke in
darkness gasping for air, coaxed from the nightmare by a beautiful
song. It sprung deep in his head, his mouth tingled and water
beaded on his skin. While he had slept the barrels had slid closer,
pressing him in, but now his breath returned and a mysterious
energy rippled around his body, washing over his tired muscles. It
was a pleasant renewal compared to the wildfire of the vapours. The
after effects of the blaze must have been giving him
hallucinations, for it was all too strange. No sooner had he begun
to grasp what was happening than the song drifted away, as if borne
by a river flow.

The canvas
opened and Elrin kept still, hidden amongst the crush of barrels.
It was secured shut again and all was silent except for the
occasional birdcall.

The wagon
shook into motion, leaving Elrin wondering if he had slept through
his chance to escape. He could have been asleep for an hour, or a
day, and had no idea where the wagons were going; the canvas was
too thick to see out. He wouldn’t risk lifting it open or the
guards would spot him. It wasn’t worth getting caught just for a
peep; that was a lesson he’d not soon forget.

Propping
himself up against a barrel, Elrin ruffled through the satchel
hopeful that Kleith had sent him away with some decent food. There
were several broken biscuits and a hard cheese wrapped in cloth. It
wasn’t a great deal for a long journey, but he was ravenous and
devoured the lot, down to the last crumbled carcass of a biscuit
which he scraped up and pinched into his mouth. His appetite
petitioned for more, so he uncorked the water skin and drank
deeply. The cool liquid tasted of home, refreshing his body and
fooling his stomach.

After a brief
stop the wagon changed direction then jostled along at a fresh
pace. Elrin braced against the weight of the barrels, which
shuffled across the floor, squashing him in with every bump and
divot.

He had no idea
how he would escape if the wagon kept on going. It didn’t matter so
much, as long as it was away from the Guildmaster. He hoped his
mother was safe from the trouble he caused. Kleith would look after
her, but Elrin craved her comfort for himself. Just a word of
reassurance would give him strength. It was a ridiculous fancy.
He’d never be able to return home; not until he found his father,
or this Dragon Choir; whatever that was.

There were
ships at Rum Hill and the traders or fishermen might want extra
crew. That would be the best way to begin his quest and work his
way down to Jando. They might be overly fanatical about their
almighty Lord down south, but they controlled the sea, and Kleith
said he had to get to the Hoard Islands. Surely they all weren’t so
bad, maybe someone there would know of the Dragon Choir too.

He couldn’t
recall if Kleith mentioned which one came first. Should he look for
the Dragon Choir to get to the Hoard Islands or was it the other
way around? A local in Rum Hill would know more. Some old salt at
the docks would steer him in the right direction for a favour or
chore. Elrin was not ashamed of honest work, he’d laboured his body
for shine and he’d do so for shell. Whatever happened he had to get
to the Hoard Islands before the season broke.

The wagon
stopped after several hours had passed. Elrin’s muscles ached from
holding the barrels back from crushing him. The wagon guards began
to chat together. It was the first time he had heard them since he
woke up. Their absence had almost convinced Elrin he was aboard a
ghost caravan carting the dead to the afterlife. Maybe he had
arrived. At least Nathis would recognise him wearing the garb of a
humble herder.

Muffled
cheerful banter seeped out of a building; a tavern, maybe a
roadside inn. A female voice called out and the men beside the
wagon trailed off towards the music and laughter. The woman’s voice
was familiar. He waited for it again, but there was nothing; she’d
gone. Elrin was left with an occasional snort from the horses for
company.

Elrin dared to
move in the silence. It was difficult; his stiff back and aching
joints slowed him down, though he fancied that it improved his
stealth. He pressed his ear to the canvas searching for any
movement of a guard nearby, then knelt down and peered through the
canvas flap.

There was no
one guarding the rear of the wagon, so he eased himself out and
peered around the corner. Some guards had gathered by the lead
wagon and a few others hovered around the door of a busy roadhouse,
snug in a clearing beside the forest.

Summoning his
courage, he dashed through the moonlight into the shadows of a
large tree overhanging the wagon. He waited, stretching his legs
and listening to the night, but there was nothing. A quick peek
around the tree trunk revealed no one had noticed the escape.

His stomach
clenched with joy and adrenaline, imagining himself a hero like his
father, vanquishing dragons and taking their treasure. Maybe he
wasn’t a real hero, but things could be set right again. Finding
Father would return everything back to normal, together they would
walk through the gates of Calimska and demand justice. Mother would
sing again and Father would lead new adventures. Elrin could take a
name and get his ink; finally be someone with a guild to call his
own, at last he’d be accepted.

The shadows
cast by the bright white moon and the warm yellow tavern lamps hid
Elrin as he crept towards the roadhouse. The front door hung open,
ventilating the well-lubricated banter of men finished a long days
labour. Above the group of Jandan soldiers congregating around the
entrance hung a sign painted with a seabird making off with a crab
in its beak. A gull of some kind, just like the ones around the
Lake of Tears back in Calimska.

To get past
the guards without being noticed, Elrin needed a distraction. He
picked up a pebble and lobbed it into the bushes beside the guards.
One guard looked then returned to his ale and conversation. Elrin
chose a larger stone and aimed it closer to them. The stone arced
high and hit the sign above their heads, bounced off a guard’s
shoulder then dropped into his tankard.