Dave Smeds - The Schemes of Dragons

"The wizard has taken the road to Yent!" the scout announced triumphantly. "He's running away!"

Owl expelled a breath he had not realized he had been holding. Wood spirits be blessed; they had won! A shout ran through the assemblage, down the stairs, into the keep. It took some time for the tavernmaster to notice that the twins, though relieved, were far from elated.

"He's going to rendezvous with the garrison there," Elenya said ominously.

Owl's smile faded. They could have held off a cohort of men, given the protection of the castle, but if the wizard gathered reinforcements…

"It will be a few days before he can mount an attack," Alemar said, to everyone within hearing range. "Spread the word to abandon the castle."

"My lord?" asked the man nearest him.

"The forest is a better hiding place."

The news spread, and suddenly the grounds crawled with movement. Those who had been repairing the damaged fortress defenses abandoned their work, and began systematic looting. They piled armor, weapons, gold, iron, and food in the central courtyard. Anything that could be moved was moved, until only bare stone walls and thick beams were left.

Owl started as the prince approached him and said, "These spoils will need to be distributed among the villagers. I propose an equal share for every man, woman, and child. Will you help see that this is done?"

Owl widened his eyes and stammered, "Of course, my lord. The elders and I will see to it. Aren't you taking any?"

"A little. But only what can be carried with us on the run. More would only hinder us. Better to let it go to the many, especially the armor, where it can be hidden until future need."

The tavernmaster nodded vigorously, but before he could engage the prince in further conversation, the latter marched off toward the keep.

The climb up Omril's tower seemed unusually long, at least three times as many steps as it had been coming down. Some of the men Alemar had killed still lay curled in postures of death. The stench of cooked flesh choked him as he reached the landing.

Little was left of Omril's sanctum save piles of charred wood and hardened pools of molten metal. His boot dislodged a piece of smoldering bone. He tested the floor, and tiptoed gingerly out to the balcony.

Cinders and fine soot coated the balustrade. He ran a finger across the stone, and held up the blackened tip. No trace remained of the four rythni, only ash, smoothly laid down.

At mid-morning, Owl was helping load a cart with sacks of goodroot from the castle larder when a pair of burly rebels dragged a gaunt, greybearded man into the courtyard. "Let me go!" the man growled imperiously, but his captors merely laughed. They led him before the twins.

"We found this hiding in the dungeons."

"My lord governor," Elenya said, affecting a bow. Puriel bit back another outburst. Elenya, though she had cleaned away some of the vestiges of the battle, was still a sight to stop hearts cold. His mouth fell into a palsy. Several people next to Owl called out for the governor's death.

"I don't think they like you," Elenya said.

"The Dragon will have your heads for this," he promised.

"Perhaps," Alemar replied. "But not in time to save you."

Puriel started to reply, then swallowed it.

Elenya drew her rapier. "Shall I be quick?" she asked her brother.

Alemar pursed his lips. "No, I think slow would be better. Like Milec."

Puriel sagged and would have hit the ground had his captors not held him by the scruff of his nightgown. Even Owl, who had nothing to fear, shuddered.

"I have just the thing for you," Elenya said, sheathing her blade. As if according to plan, one of her compatriots produced a harness, which she fitted around Puriel's torso. She tied a rope to it and fastened the other end to her saddle.

"Stay there a while," she told him. "Later this morning we'll go for a ride."

Puriel stood, surrounded by the hostile gazes of the villagers, until at length he began to moan. He stared at the ground, flinching whenever anyone stepped close. Alemar and Elenya ignored him. Owl was not sure what the twins had in mind, but he smiled to see Puriel so uncomfortable.

The looters divided the spoils and loaded it onto carts and pack animals. Several hefty villagers tethered the main group of prisoners together and led them away. Squads of men piled broken wood and straw against the structures and doused them with oil. Only then did the twins return to the governor.

Elenya climbed into the saddle. "Mind you keep up, now," she said, as if offering Puriel a dollop of sincere, friendly advice. She shook the reins.

Her mount trotted across the bridge at a pace that made Puriel run, fast enough to wind him, but not so fast that he would fall. The crowd surged behind, hooting, laughing, encouraging him to step lively, making jokes about his bony ankles.

They stopped at the edge of the forest, and waited there while the castle was evacuated. The men who brought out the last load lit fires as they departed. Puriel watched the flames lick at the bowels of his sanctuary. "The heat will weaken the mortar. Then we'll pull down the walls as well," Alemar told him. The governor licked his lips, wide-eyed and incredulous, clearly shocked, as Owl had been earlier, that the rebels were not keeping the castle as their own. But even the tavernmaster had quickly seen the logic: They did not have the strength to defend it against a concerted attack. It would only provide the Dragon with a target, and his retribution would be terrible enough without making it simple for him. Far better to dissolve into the forest and the towns, where they could not be easily found and/or identified. For the Dragon to reestablish his presence, his minions would have to spend long hours rebuilding the fortifications.

But much of that work would wait until the next day, when the bonfires had burnt out. Meanwhile, Elenya led the procession into Old Stump. Puriel jogged behind on unsteady legs. When she got too far ahead of the crowd, she turned and came back, starting again at the tail end. The governor began to pant, clutching his side, holding the rope with a death grip. She slackened the pace just enough that he could keep his feet, her toying glances always hinting that maybe, around the next bend, she would spur her mount and drag him. Puriel's eyes bulged. Spittle dotted his slate grey beard. Once, as he passed the line of prisoners, he called out to his men to aid him, but every one of them pretended he did not exist.

She rode him three times around the center of the town, gradually drawing the circle tighter around the remnant of the great father tree, where Milec had been pinioned. The people gathered around, jockeying for the best view. Small children, lacking the patience of their elders, pelted the governor with pebbles. One boy ran up close and flung a stone that struck Puriel hard on the bridge of his nose. Puriel snarled and kicked out at the child. Only then did Elenya jerk him forward, yanking him face first into the dust.

Three rebels picked him up, stripped him, and tied him to the tall stump. He panted so hard that Owl felt sure the man would faint. Once again the observers began to chant for his death.

"Be done with it," he moaned.

She rode back and forth, scanning him as a goat breeder would examine a prize buck. "I think not," she said.

His brows crept closer together. "Eh?"

"I think the folk of this town will be able to determine what sort of justice you deserve." As Puriel grew pallid, she, Alemar, and thirty or forty of the core group of rebels turned and rode away, leaving the governor in the care of the locals.

Owl solemnly watched them go. He had expected the sudden turn of events; the twins had told him and some of the other elders that the fate of the prisoners would be given into their hands. But he was surprised to see his own daughter, twelve years old with figure still delicate and uncurved, dance over to Alemar's oeikani and lift a flower to him. He took it. She smiled at her audacity, caught her father's eye, and scampered back into the throng.