Dennis McKiernan - The Dragonstone

Just before dawn on the ninth of May, six hundred seventy-eight days after Arin had had her vision, they haled into the port of Hafen and made fast to the docks.

As the sun rose they looked south to see their white-capped goal lying but forty miles away-forty miles to Dragons' Roost, forty miles to the Kraken Pool, forty miles to the Dragonstone, forty miles to doom.

[Aye. They do be a path leadin' up,"] said the hostle-keep, eyeing the strange company before him, [but a man'd ha'e t' be a bluidy fool t' climb them dreaded steeps."]

Egil nodded and turned to the others and translated the 'keep's words, for he had spoken in the Jordian tongue- oh, not Valur, the battle-tongue of lord, for that was close-held by the people of this land, reserved for warriors and war. Instead he spoke in the customary Jordian speech, which Egil could clearly understand, for the Jordians and his own Fjordlanders are said to have sprung from the same root stock… and their languages had much in common.

Egil turned back to the man. ["We need horses. Cattle, too."]

The 'keep's eyes flew wide, wider than they had when he had first seen the Dylvana, wider than they had when he'd seen this strange, golden Warrior Maid. ["Ye dunt plan on goin' there, anow, d' ye? Up into Raudhrskal's domain."]

["We do. Yet we'll allow no others to accompany us."]

[" 'N' j'st who d' ye think'd be th' bluidy fool 'r fools who'd want t' go wi' ye, anow?"]

At dawn of the third day after arriving at Hafen, Arin and her companions set out from the port town. A gathering of citizenry watched as these strangers-four males and three females, seven fools altogether-embarked for Dragons' Roost.

That one there, he be th' one-eyed Fjordlander, a raider, no doubt. Aye, but don't ye find it passin' strange that there be two one-eyed men among them seven, th' old one wi' a regular evil eye, I'd say; but he be in his cups most o' th' time. Did ye hear that sweet-voiced bard sing, 'n' why do he be along? T' sing t' th' Drake, d' ye suppose? That big man there, he probably be a warrior, 'n' some tell they seen 'im lying flat on th' stones 'n' praying at Elwydd's shrine. Ha! As if prayin' t' Elwydd belike t' save 'im fra th' Drake. That one woman, th' one wi' th' daggers-I heard she be a Gothonian. Ar, but th' other one, th' yellow warrior maid, what land d' ye think she be fra, eh? That Elf, a Dylvana, no less, I'd say she be a sorceress o' great power. 'N' they be all headed f r Dragons' Roost, 'n' why d' ye think that be? Did ye see all o' them ropes 'n' stuff what they took wi' 'em on th' pack mules? T' get th' treasure, no doubt: th' bard t' sing 'im t' sleep; th' old man t' give 'im th' evil eye; th' sorcerous Dylvana t' charm th' Drake; th' yellow warrior maid t' cut 'im up wi' her magic swords; th' other three t' carry th' gold 'n' jools. But it'll fail, what e're their plan be: cattle 'r no, magic 'r no, swords 'r no, th' Drake Raudhrskal'll j'st burn 'em up wi' 'is fire 'n' be done wi' it…

And thus went the mutter of conversation as seven fools rode out on seven Jordian steeds, driving four head of cattle before them and trailing three laden packmules behind.

"Alos," said Arin, "thou didst not need come with us, but could have stayed in Hafen instead."

Alos shivered as he stared at the white peak ahead, but hi a monotone he said, "Unlike before, I'll not desert my shipmates in their time of need."

"Hmm," mused Ferret. "You've said that heretofore, Alos… several times, in fact. Tell me, was there a day when you did desert your shipmates?"

The oldster looked at her, then glanced across at Arin. The Dylvana smiled. Alos ducked his head, ashamed. "It was in the Boreal," he muttered.

"What?" said Ferret. "I did not hear you."

Alos took a deep breath. "It was in the Boreal," he repeated.

"What was in the Boreal?"

Alos again looked at Arin, his one-eyed gaze pleading, for he had told no one of his cowardice past.

Arin guided her horse next to his. "Thou dost need not speak of aught if it pains thee. Even so, I deem it weighs thee down, yet burdens become lighter when shared."

Tears welled in Alos's gaze. "It was in the Boreal. The Black Mage Durlok and his Trolls boarded my ship, the Solstr a le, and took all prisoner… all but me. I hid in the bilge. Durlok sunk the ship."

"Ah," said Ferret, "now I recall you said something to that effect in Ordrune's gaol."

"And you hid in the bilge," said Aiko, her voice flat.

"I can't help it," said Alos, his chin trembling. "It's the way I am."

Aiko continued to look at him impassively.

Alos could not meet her gaze. "You yourself said that the first rule of life is to live. -Yes, I deserted my shipmates, but at least I'm alive."

Aiko shrugged slightly. "Is it a life worth living?"

Arin frowned at Aiko, then said to Alos, "But this time, my friend, and unlike before, thou art with us, thy shipmates, in our time of need."

Alos looked south toward Dragons' Roost looming up in the morning light, his breath wheezing in and out of his gasping lungs, and then he nodded his head and groaned.

Driving the cattle was a laggardly task, for the stolid animals plodded slowly across the grass on the verge of the vast prairie stretching beyond sight to the east, while to the west rolled endless waves across the deeps of the Boreal Sea. South bore the seven companions, south for the flanks of Dragons' Roost some forty miles away, and at the pace they set, it would take the better part of three days to reach the distant slopes.

All day they rode, plodding along, Alos alternately weeping and drinking from one of the flagons of brandy he had slipped into his saddle bags. The sun rode up into the sky and over and down, shedding some warmth in the early spring, the winds yet chill and blowing inland from the brine of the Boreal nearby.

Now and again they would stop along the plentiful streams to let the animals take on water. Too, they would occasionally pause to feed the horses and mules some grain, and at those times the cattle would graze, the thick grasses now greening with the coming spring. Grass and horses and cattle: these were the riches of lord, the broad realm itself nought but a vast, lush plain.

As twilight fell they made camp in a coppice, somewhat out of the wind. They had come some twelve or thirteen miles from Hafen, the town just over the horizon behind. In the night they stood watches in turn, all but Alos, that is, for he slept under the influence of brandy and quivered and moaned in his sleep.

As on every night, near mid of night, Aiko on watch felt the presence of peril, peril at a distance. And unseen high in the sky above, something slid across the stars, taking care to avoid being silhouetted against the waning gibbous moon.

That night a bleak mist swirled in from the Boreal Sea, turning all dark. The next day found Arin and her band wending slowly southward across the dreary 'scape toward a now obscured goal. Urged forward by the riders, the cattle plodded onward in the still land, moving at their laggardly pace. And although the day brightened as the veiled sun swung up into the drab sky, the coiling fog lingered, chilling flesh to the bone.

Alos shivered and blubbered and drank from a second flask. And even though he couldn't see the oncoming mountain, he wept copious tears and swore he would not desert his shipmates in their time of need.

There was no twilight, the gloom merely growing darker with the sinking of the sun, though the mist remained palely luminous from the waning moon beyond. Once again they made camp, this time in a dank swale, the sward wet through and through from the fog. Having no wood they made no fire, and took a cold supper of jerky and tack and water.