The Dragon Ring (Book 1) (8 page)

Memlatec bowed.

“You should have told us in advance, that we might have expressed a better good-bye to our son.”

“Your concern might have been perceived, Majesty. Spies might have picked that up and forewarned Duchess Irkin.”

* * *

At Vicksylva that afternoon, the court chamberlain arrived without fanfare in his state coach. Countess Betsoya Vicksnak wondered why the queen sent the official as she descended the grand staircase to the great hall. The countess was not alarmed. She thought the queen must have sent for Saxthor. When told of the excursion, she was most pleased and relieved.

“What a delightful opportunity to learn new things from the camping experience. I expect I’ll hear from Bodrin soon about their exploits.”

She didn’t question the opportunity; Bodrin was with Saxthor his best friend, a prince of Neuyokkasin, and she thought no more of it.

5: Journey Down the Nhy

Saxthor and Bodrin followed Tournak down to the swamp where tannins from eons of fallen cypress leaves stained the dark amber water. They passed along in the embankment’s shadow by the fringe of evergreen ferns deeper into the swamp’s murky shades. After half a mile, Tournak released a visionary spell, which disguised a small, unique boat at the water’s edge.

Saxthor leaned to Bodrin’s ear. “Did you see what I saw?”

“How’d you do that?” Bodrin asked.

“The boat’s not from around here is it, Tournak?” Saxthor asked. He stepped up to the craft, rubbed the rich, polished wood, and studied its meticulous details.

“Local broad flat bottom boats are for fishing,” Bodrin said. “I’ve never seen a boat this far up in the bogs. The front and back, they curve up high and round. And the face carved on the bow with big eyes and pointed ears, seems almost alive. She’s made for speed not fishing.”

“At the other end, Bodrin,” Saxthor said pointing, “a lantern hanging out over the boat’s back half. Who travels a swamp at night?”

Bodrin nodded. “And the hole in the middle seat, and support under it for a mast, they’re for sailing. Where’re the mast and sail? This isn’t some smugglers swamp boat.” He turned to Tournak, “Is stuff missing?”

“Bodrin, under the far seat, a chest carved with those rune things like the ones on Sorblade. The big steering oar has carvings on the handle, too. At least the oars seem normal. Well, no, somebody whittled them funny as well.” The two boys shared glances. “What do you think?” Saxthor asked.

“It’s a boat and it floats,” Bodrin beamed. “This is fantastic, Tournak.”

“You’re easy, Bodrin,” Saxthor said. “Hoping to explore the bogs in this craft, you don’t care if Tournak stole it.”

Bodrin cast Saxthor a pinched mug and turned back to the mentor.

“What kinda boat is this, Tournak?” Bodrin rubbed the smooth, polished wood and carvings. “I’ve never seen one like it before.”

“She’s elfin. They built her long ago when elves still inhabited this land. You won’t come across such a vessel again, I think.”

Tournak got in and moved with careful steps to the stern. The vessel held steady as if she was adjusting for the man’s weight. The wizard took the steering oar and motioned the boys to get in. “Come on, we need to move on.”

“I’ll hold the boat for you, Bodrin,” Saxthor said. “Go ahead. I want to get another look at the face.”

The countenance was handsome with eyes fixed forward, a strong brow and jaw with fine nose and mouth. The ears drew Saxthor’s attention.

“Is this an elf face? From Memlatec’s old stories, I’m thinking these features are elfin. Even in tales, elves are said to have left long ago.”

“People claim they were the best woodworkers, and were able to work magic into things they made.” Bodrin was rubbing the runes. “I can barely make out the cracks between the boards. I don’t understand what’s holding the wood together, but I can’t find any water in the bottom.”

As soon as Saxthor seated himself in the bow and Twit flitted to the stern, the vessel slid back from the shore on its own without a sound. It turned and moved forward out into the dark waters with the slightest ripple and wake.

“Bodrin, did you see what I saw?” Saxthor glanced at bug-eyed Bodrin. “I think the eyes move.”

“Yeah right, the figurehead’s wooden, Saxthor.”

“No, I’m serious, they moved.” Saxthor turned back to face Bodrin. “And Tournak, he’s not steering, he’s talking to the boat. None of us has rowed. This thing is moving by itself.”

Bodrin’s head jerked back and front, both stared at Tournak.

The craft slid between the massive cypress trunks and islands in the swamp without a sound. After a while, the tannic water began to flow as they approached the river. A great blue heron studied them from the shore as a water moccasin slithered through the duckweed close to land.

“How did you find this elfin treasure, Tournak?” Saxthor asked. “I was sure the elves were made-up story people. Today I got a magic sword, and I’m riding in a live boat.”

This is the first time I’ve paid attention to the silent man’s strength, thought Saxthor.  He seems to be part of everything around him.

“My grandmother was an elf,” Tournak said. “I rarely divulge that; people don’t believe me. Telling only causes trouble when they find out, so I don’t discuss it often. My relations made the vessel and loaned her to us.”

“Oops!” Bodrin grinned and said in Saxthor’s ear. “Stuck your foot in the old mouth didn’t you? Hope you don’t get appointed foreign minister when we grow up.”

“I imagine you’re proud to have strengths of both elf and man,” Saxthor said. He shot a brief grin at Bodrin.

“And weaknesses,” Bodrin poked Saxthor in the ribs when Tournak looked away.

“Yes, weaknesses, too,” Tournak said.

Saxthor flicked Bodrin’s ear. “Guess elves have special hearing, huh, Bodrin?”

Bodrin flushed.

Saxthor chuckled, opened his mouth in a circle and pointed at Bodrin’s foot careful their guardian didn’t note the gesture.

The sorcerer stood up without warning and rushed toward them. “Move to the stern when I slip between you and keep down.”

“What’s the matter?” Saxthor asked.

“Do as I say. Stay out of sight and be quiet. Don’t you hear the hiss?”

“What hiss?”

“Move, go now!”

The boys stepped back over the middle seat to the one under the sternpost. Tournak rushed past them over the seats to the bow, where he scanned for why the face on the bow hissed.

“The figurehead would only give warning at something evil, a threat close to the boat.”

“I heard it that time, Saxthor,” Bodrin said. His head spun toward the sound.

Saxthor shuffled toward the middle of the seat, his eyes fixed on the dark water. “I thought I saw a big fin cut through the duckweed beside the boat.”

“Just a big catfish, Saxthor,” Bodrin said. “I don’t think the water is deep enough for monsters. We’re still a ways away from the river.”

“I’m sure I saw something back there,” Saxthor said, his voice high pitched.

“Maybe it’s something in the trees, but nothing is moving in the branches,” Bodrin said. “Tournak, do you see anything or is this just a practical joke to scare us so we behave?” Bodrin’s nervous chuckle died in the silence without response. Tournak continued to scan the water in front of the boat.

The water erupted beside the craft as a huge, reptilian hand, green-scaled, with long thin digits and claws shot over the boat’s side and grabbed for Saxthor where he’d just been. The green fingers snatched his sandal with an iron grip, a claw scratching his foot.

“Let go of me!”

Saxthor jerked his leg. His foot slipped from the sandal and he fell backward over the seat. Panicked, he glanced back. Probing fingers clutched the sandal then slung it away. Bodrin went for his knife. Tournak spun around and hurled a bolt of wizard-fire at the hand groping for Saxthor.

A hellish shriek erupted from the churning water. A smoldering nub trembled where the searching fingers had been. The smoking arm jerked back down into the muddy froth as swirling green duckweed closed over the tannic soup.

“What was that thing?” Saxthor asked. His head jerked from side to side and all around.

“Over there!” Bodrin pointed. “A giant tail as big as my leg.”

Saxthor and Tournak watched the tail too, but transfixed, said nothing. The tail thrashed through the murky liquid, propelling the unseen monster’s body into deeper water, where it disappeared.

“How big was the monster?” Bodrin asked.

“You all right, Saxthor?” Tournak asked. “Did the creature hurt you?”

“I’m okay,” was all Saxthor could muster. He felt his chest heaving over his pounding heart. Sweat beads trickled down his cheeks. Embarrassed, it dawned on him his face must be red. He huddled under the sternpost, arms and legs scrunched in a fetal position. He glanced side-to-side checking for another imminent attack. I can’t stop shaking, he thought. He tucked his face between his knees.

He heard Bodrin’s foot beside him. “It’s okay, Saxthor.”

The prince raised his head to Bodrin, but couldn’t look at his guardian. “Sorry I yelled. The thing caught me by surprise. I won’t shout again.”

“Cripes, Saxthor, I’d have hollered to raise the dead myself,” Bodrin said. He squatted down in the boat’s center in front of Saxthor. A glance and wink at his friend and he was slashing the air with his knife.

“The creature scared us all,” Tournak said. “Such a monster isn’t here by nature.” He moved to the back again, his step lighter and calmer.

“Aunt Irkin sent the thing,” Saxthor said without looking up.

Saxthor released his legs and forced himself to lean forward to pick up the smoldering sandal. He studied it for a moment, then still trembling, pulled it back on his foot.

“She knows where I am.”

Saxthor saw Bodrin and Tournak share glances. He couldn’t hold up his head.

“You can move back to the middle,” Tournak said. “The creature is gone, but better keep your eyes and ears alert.” He returned to the stern, patted Saxthor on the shoulder and took the steering oar.

“Aunt Irkin hates me so much. It’s more than simple vengeance.”

Tournak hesitated. “I suppose you’re old enough to know what’s behind this. When he ascended the throne, your frail uncle, Minnabec the Third relied on his wealth and crown to secure a wife. The people of her hometown, Wodin, called Irkin Megla, Earwig, the Pretender of Wodin. Twisted by her obsession to climb in society, she suppressed her conscience until it withered and died. The cold, soulless creature was capable of any unscrupulousness to get what she wanted, the pinnacle of power. Living in obscure exile, she’s embraced dark powers and drew energy to evil purposes to regain the crown or at least get revenge.

Irkin Megla’s eye fell on the spineless new King of Neuyokkasin, your uncle, whom she determined she could dominate. She thought as queen she would hold the kingdom’s foremost social position and thus command respect and acceptance among Neuyokkasin’s nobility. Minnabec married the scheming creature for her strength of will, which he discovered he couldn’t control. The marriage of his weakness and her boundless ambition amplified the worst in both. She thought her social position secure, so Queen Irkin lorded her station over everyone, especially those of genuine nobility, whom she resented.”

Saxthor smashed an insect crawling on the seat next him. “She cares for no one.”

“Minnabec put his own interests above those of the state, and the kingdom’s financial condition declined.”

“The kingdom’s financial condition?” Bodrin asked.

Saxthor glanced at him. “No money.”

“When the troops’ disdain for Minnabec’s weakness and lack of vision led to their refusal to obey him, your uncle returned to Konnotan in despair. Meanwhile, Irkin, by then referred to as Witch Earwig, had totally alienated the court and everyday people of the kingdom. The nobles forced your uncle to abdicate in favor of his sister and co-ruler, your mother.”

“Aunt Irkin imagines Mother stole the throne from them?” Saxthor asked. “She can’t believe they did this to themselves?”

“No, she’s incapable of facing her own flaws. Far from the court’s vitality, Earwig turned to conjuring dark beings. She’s studied her spells of ancient evil to draw strength from malignant sites hidden in the earth’s bowels. Evil commands the witch. She doesn’t realize her situation yet, or doesn’t care. Earwig hates your mother’s ancient nobility. She cannot understand it. The discovery of your power and resulting potential threat it creates has magnified and focused her need for revenge. ”

Saxthor sat back in silence pondering what Tournak said. They sailed on through the swamp all afternoon. All kept vigil on the water and listened for the figurehead’s hiss.

Bodrin broke the tense silence towards sunset. “I’m getting hungry.”

“Me too,” Saxthor said when he noted Bodrin was fidgeting.

Bodrin’s starving, Saxthor thought. Wild bears couldn’t unnerve Bodrin’s calm nature, but we’d better get something to eat soon, or he’ll be cranky.

“Tournak, do we have any food in the boat? We had some lunch in our other pack from the hike this morning, but we dropped the pack when the water moccasins came at us.” 

“Water moccasins attacked you this morning? Memlatec said Fedra stopped a vulture from attacking you. He didn’t mention snakes.”

“Yeah, three came at us. I cut off the first one’s head,” Saxthor said. “The other two swam off. Thought we just surprised them, but I guess they were another gift from Aunt Irkin.”

Tournak slid the chest out from beneath his seat and pushed it toward the boys without comment. When Tournak nodded, Bodrin opened the trunk.

Bodrin rummaged through the container. “Hey, a jug of cool milk, a loaf of bread so fresh the smell makes my mouth water, and a cheese wrapped in damp cloth.”

“Whip out your hunting knife and cut us some bread and cheese,” Saxthor said. “Is it all right, Tournak?”

“Don’t wait on me.” Tournak accepted some food last and the feast began. Revitalized, the trio settled back as Twit cleaned up the crumbs. Before dusk, the boat turned to the land and slid onto the bank where they stopped for the night.