Mary Herbert - Legacy of Steel

Sara leaned against the mare's warm side and tried to stifle the sudden chill that settled in her stomach. "I thought they no longer existed as a group. Their leader is dead, their queen is gone. Most of their ranks were slaughtered." Despite her wish to sound casual, her voice rose higher with every word.

Bootjack lifted his skinny shoulders in a shrug. "Well, that's true enough. But there are a few still lurking around. In fact, I heard tell they have a new headquarters and are looking for recruits. Can you believe it?" He glanced at Sara and saw in surprise that she had turned as pale as milk. He patted his round belly, pleased he had spread some news that elicited such a response. It wasn't often he got to shock someone down to her bootstraps.

Sara didn't want to believe it. The world had suffered enough from the Knights of Takhisis. Let them stay dead and buried. And yet what if Bootjack was right? Could it be possible someone was reorganizing the dark knighthood?

The thought plagued Sara through the dinner she served Bootjack and remained with her for days afterward. Her mind roved far on the news she had heard, and she pondered its portent in her silent thoughts. She wondered if she should talk to Cobalt about her fears, then decided against it. She wanted to be certain of her facts before she brought up the subject. There would be time to talk to him later.

Six days after Bootjack dropped off her new boots, fetched his mare, and went whistling on his way. Sara dragged herself out of bed from another miserable night of internal debate and made a decision. Wearily she rode her horse back into the mountains to tell Cobalt her plans. She found the dragon absorbed in digging up a large tree for no more reason than he wanted the exercise. While he dug and tore at the roots and played in the dirt, she ran through her sword drills and tried to find the words that would explain her emotions without angering her friend.

It was hard enough trying to explain them to herself. She felt beset by a complicated welter of feelings about the Dark Knights-anger, resentment, frustration, intense dislike, even outrage that they would consider reforming their sinister organization. She firmly believed the knighthood should have died out with its founder, Lord Ariakan. But how could she explain all of this to a blue dragon, a servant of Takhisis?

Maybe-if the rumors were not true-she wouldn't have to.

When the tree finally crashed down and Cobalt stood over it like a triumphant gladiator, Sara laughed and put away her sword.

"Come talk to me," she said, wiping her forehead and sitting on a flat boulder.

Cobalt flopped down on the ground beside her. A coating of dirt and bark covered his legs and chest, and a branch with a few leaves still clinging dangled from his horns. He bent his neck to take a close look at her. "You look worried, Sara. What is bothering you?"

"I've heard some disquieting news," she said, each word deliberately slow. "I need to go to Palanthas for a few days to learn more."

"I shall go with you."

"No not this time. I don't want you anywhere near Khellendros. I plan to go as a craftswoman to sell my weaving .If all goes well, I'll be back within two weeks."

The dragon's head dropped lower, and his eyelids slid halfway down to hood his golden eyes. "What is so important that it sends you across the mountains to Palanthas?"

"I have heard that the Knights of Takhisis may be regrouping in Neraka. I want to know for sure."

"Why? Surly you do not wish to rejoin them."

"I just have to know. For my own peace of mind." Sara decided not to say any more than that now. Once she knew the truth, she could decide how much of her feelings to tell him. It was possible he would take offense at her attitude and leave her. That possibility truly worried her. she had become quite used to his companionship and would miss him horribly if he left.

Cobalt's gaze locked into hers, and he studied her for a long time before he replied. "Be careful, Sara. If you are not back in two sevendays, I will come looking for you."

She nodded, her heart grateful for his concern. "You be careful,too. No stealing cows while I'm gone. And stay out of sight." She reached up and scratched his eye ridges gently. "I'll miss you," she added in a voice barely above a whisper.

He crouched on his belly and watched her mount the old horse for the ride back down the trail. He continued to stare at the spot long after she had ridden out of sight.

"I'll miss you, too,"you, too," he said sadly.

Sara packed carefully for her trip to Palanthas. The rugs, shawls, scarves, cloth, and wall hangings she had woven and saved for several years were brought out of her loft shaken out, and folded into the horse panniers she borrowed from a neighbor. Seven days of trail food was added to the baskets, as well as several changes of clothing. She topped one pannier with her cloak and a blanket and filled the other with a nose bag, an extra halter, and a bag of grain for the horse.

She debated taking her sword before she realized that it was simply her nervousness trying to influence her. No mere weaver would have a sword among her belongings. She contented herself with her short hunting bow a dagger at her belt, and a second long, slim blade tucked into the calf of her new boot.

Dawn had not yet lightened the sky when Sara loaded the panniers on the horse and left her cottage. Although it was early and she had slept little, she didn't want to be distracted by curious villagers or farmers needing help with an animal. She just wanted to get moving and finish this trip as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, while Palanthas was due east of Connersby as the dragon flies, there was no direct land route from the village over the mountains to the city. Sara had to go north to Daron, then take the trail southeast past the iron mines and on to Palanthas. It was a dangerous trip for a woman alone, but Sara hoped to find other travelers in Daron who would not mind another person joining their group.

She reached the port town by evening and found an inn on the outskirts near the trail to Palanthas. The inn, named the Widow's Walk, was a large, prosperous establishment befitting a town as busy as Daron. It was owned by a woman-the widow, Sara imagined-who kept it well. The stables were clean, the inn courtyard was neat, and the long, tall building was in good repair.

Sara decided to splurge on a room. If there were travelers leaving for the city, this would be a good place to find them. She left her horse in the care of a young lad and paid extra to store her packs.

The common room was busy-another good sign- filled with local fishermen, sailors, merchants, a few local farmers, and a group of dwarves. Most of the customers were engrossed in their own food and conversation. Only a few looked her way when Sara entered.

That was to Sara's liking. She had deliberately dressed in a plain, drab skirt and tunic to ensure her presence was not memorable. Her silver hair had been rolled into a bun, topped by a loose hat; her dagger was tucked out of sight under a voluminous vest. Her face was pleasant, but at her age, not enough beauty remained to attract casual eyes.

After a few words with the lady innkeeper, she learned what she wanted to know. A party of merchants was leaving for Palanthas in the morning. When she approached the men dining near the fireplace, they eyed her up and down for a mere moment and nodded agreement. For a small fee, she could join their party.

Sara was satisfied. The fee was not exorbitant and was only to be expected. The merchants had five armed guards traveling with them and a train of pack animals. Few bandits or lone ogres would dare attack a party that.

They left the Widow's Walk after breakfast in a long, noisy caravan and took the trail into the rugged Vingaard Mountains. The trail, while not a maintained high road, had been traveled enough to be fairly wide and, on the lower slopes of the mountains at least, easily negotiated. The morning was cool and rainy, and the towering peaks of the range stayed veiled behind clouds of mist.