Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon) (26 page)

At a high wood table she unrolled the paper, fastening the corners to the tabletop with tacks to keep it open. A castle-like structure had been drawn upon the paper. She had drawn it herself. A trench would be dug from the Sea of Serpents, and it would surround the castle. Sea water would fill the moat, ensureing that it never dried up, and a drawbridge wide enough for ten men to walk abreast would span it. The courtyard walled in a stable, smithy, several homes, and shops. The walls were twelve feet thick, something several artisans had protested required too much valuable building time, but if the fort ever served as a point of defense, she knew the walls would be strong. She traced the entrance to the central keep. Its cylindrical tower would rise a hundred feet above the guard towers along the fort’s outer walls.

Withdrawing her hand from the plans, she sighed. Yes, this would be a monument of which her people could be proud. A place that even Gabel would have admired.

Saybor bowed to her from across the table. “If you are satisfied with the designs, I do believe the
Maiden Voyage
is ready for you. The sailors hereabouts have been waiting with eager and high expectation to display the fruits of their ship building. They say the
Maiden Voyage
is quite a lady on the water.”

She glanced out the open walls of the tent at the Sea of Serpents. A low wall of fog rolled off the shore like a thick blanket uncovering the crowd gathering by the wharfs. The fog receded away from the shoreline, out to sea, and a line of sailors, dressed in white and blue, marched toward her. She smiled at Saybor, thanked him, and walked toward the sea.

“May the Creator bless your voyage and your journey into the west, my lady,” he called after her.

The hull of the
Maiden Voyage
cut the sea waves with hardly a tremble in her thick beams. Oganna held on to the rail as she stood on the prow and looked at the water rushing past. Seagulls cried as they landed on the ship’s bowsprit. She heard the giant sail snap before the wind struck her back.

“She is a forty-foot from stem to stern, my lady,” said the captain as he stood behind the ship’s wheel. “We plan to build more just like her: fast, steady sailing ships. They are excellent for fishing, far better than the little boats we’ve been working with since before you were born.”

She turned and faced him, then grabbed hold of the railing as the boat pitched.

The captain laughed and spun the wheel by its polished knobs. He cupped his hand around his mouth and called to the sailors hanging onto the rigging high above, “Bring in the sail!”

“Ho! Roll! Ho! Roll!” Ten men hauled on the sail, rolling it, and then tying it to the yard.

The
Maiden Voyage
curved to the shoreline, where a crowd had gathered at the end of a long pier. As the vessel slowed for the end of its tour, Oganna looked at the shoreline. Where not long ago only fishermen’s boats had lain on the shore, today several piers jutted over the water. Several long and tall buildings stood along the shore, and beyond them lay the town. But what brought a smile to her face were the beams and stonework rising out of the fields north of them. Fort Gabel—or Castle Gabel, as some were calling it. When finished it would be the mightiest structure in the land. For now only a foundation of stone and the beginnings of a wall had been completed, but atop the foundation stood scaffolding a hundred feet high.

The sailors lashed the
Maiden Voyage
to the pier, and she rocked to a stop. The captain lowered a plank to the pier and preceded Oganna. He stood on the pier and bowed, proffering his hand. Eager for solid footing, she grasped it and stepped out. She staggered, and her head grew dizzy, then she recovered and curtsied to the man. “It seems to be a very worthy vessel, Captain. I look forward to seeing other ships like this one sailing over the sea for exploration and profit. Perhaps we will meet again.”

“You do me much honor, my lady,” he said.

She touched her sword’s pommel as she walked down the long pier and stepped on the sandy shore. The sword’s mysterious power shot across her body. The crowd stood back as the sword adorned her in a silver dress. Gwensin’s artisans marched toward her, their faces radiant. Saybor was among them as they thanked her for her contributions and support for the glorious structure they would complete.

“My contributions?” She gave a soft laugh. “I have little knowledge of these things. I found the process of designing the castle quite invigorating, but I’m afraid the real contributions were those that you, the experts, have made. This project would not go ahead without your knowledge and advice.”

“Do not undercut your importance in this matter,” said one artisan. He smiled up at her and kissed her hand. “Though I realize you know little of these things, you do have a natural gift toward structure design and masonry. Someday the world will know you for this Gabel Castle and others like it.”

Oganna returned his smile with one of her own and said her farewells to the artisans. “I will check on your progress upon my return.”

“Be safe, our lady!” the artisans replied, bowing out of her path.

The crowds parted, and everyone knelt before her as she made her way to the three Evenshadows whinnying in the road beyond. Ombre and Caritha had already mounted their horses. A swordsman darted toward her and knelt beside Avernardi, cupping his hands a foot off the ground. She glanced at his handsome young face and gently placed her foot in his hand. He beamed as he lifted her effortlessly up to the saddle. Their gazes locked for one strange moment. He seemed desirous of saying something else, but bowed and stepped back to the crowd’s edge. His hair was black and his eyes brown. No wedding band graced his finger. For the first time in her life she wondered what possibilities existed for her as a woman. She could doubtless have the pick of any of these fine unmarried and upstanding men. Maybe someone such as this could complete her, or someone like Saybor.

She turned the Evenshadow’s head away from the crowd and rode west across the fields of corn and into the forest.

“At last!” Ombre raced his horse around both hers and Caritha’s. He raised his fist toward the sky. “Western Wood, here we come. Good-bye familiar and hello to unexplored lands.”

Oganna laughed as she watched him slow his mount to a trot, a smile still beaming from his face.

“You are awfully excited,” Caritha said. “What do you think this is? Some kind of vacation?”

Ombre frowned. “We have a lot of work ahead of us. But I hardly call escorting two beautiful women through unknown lands a heavy chore.” He winked at Oganna, and she laughed again.

She was so glad he was coming along. Especially with Father gone she needed—they needed—a man to fill that gap. Oh, where was Father now?

Ombre’s upbeat manner, so long as it remained, would be an encouragement to her wherever she found herself. Under heaven she could not think of another man she would rather take this journey with.

They would pick up provisions at home before proceeding to the Western Wood. After all, it was on the path they were taking. She also wanted to bring along a change of clothes, and Neneila would want to come. The creature might be harsh, but no one could ask for a more devoted guardian.

At that moment she released her connection to Avenger. As the silver dress vanished, her trousers and plain shirt became visible again. She swung her leg over Avernardi’s back, straddling him. Yes, that was far more comfortable.

They rode through the afternoon, talking and laughing together.

Oganna hauled on the reins, holding her Evenshadow in check long enough for Ombre and Caritha to catch up to her. She patted the stallion’s neck and cooed softly in his ear as his rapid breathing slowed. “Take it easy, Avernardi. Our journey has only begun.”

The horse shook his head, whipping his silvery mane in all directions. This handsome creature had been given to her by Ombre when she had returned from Burloi. “Avernardi is a little spirited at times,” he had told her, “but he is also the best of his breed. Take good care of him, and he will take good care of you.” Now, as she soothed the eager animal, she admired its aristocratic poise and toned body.

She steered the horse to the side and looked over her left shoulder as Ombre’s Evenshadow carried him around a large oak tree. Caritha’s horse followed. They were taking this trip far more relaxed than she had anticipated, especially after Ombre had voiced such enthusiasm for seeing new lands. Here they were, still in the Western Wood, and her aunt and uncle seemed not to care.

As his horse wove toward her through the trees to avoid the underbrush and low-hanging branches, Ombre shook his head at her. “You will wear down your mount long before the day is out if you continue to let him dictate your speed.”

She smiled. It wasn’t her fault that Avernardi was feeling playful. As a matter of fact, she enjoyed him most when he was a handful. “I’ll see you farther on,” she said. “Avernardi needs the exercise.” Then she galloped off, leaving Ombre with no opportunity to protest.

The weather, as it had been the day before, was warm with a clear blue sky. Rays of sunlight penetrated the trees, creating shafts of light that shot to the leaf-strewn floor of the forest and highlighted the green shoots of grass underneath.

Leaning into her mount, Oganna urged him on, guiding the stallion through the trees without receiving so much as a scratch. Faster and faster she went until the trees whizzed by at a fearful rate. A stream ahead of them obstructed their path. She could feel Avernardi’s muscles tense in preparation for the jump.

“Psst! Slow down. No!” the viper, Neneila said as it constricted around Oganna’s arm. It closed its eyes as the horse leaped into the air.

The stream was too wide for Avernardi to carry her across, so she grabbed a hanging vine, and he slid from under her to jump. Her momentum carried her forward until she’d swung over the stream. Then, releasing her hold on the vine, she flipped in midair and landed softly on Avernardi’s back.

The horse nickered as she patted his neck and scratched between his ears. “Well done, Avernardi. Well done.”

Slipping around her neck, the viper tasted the air with its tongue and rolled its eyes at her. “Psst! I do not approve. One of these days you’ll missss the horse and hurt yourssself.”

“Shush, now. I’ve practiced this several times, and contrary to what you think, it is actually quite safe.”

She dismounted and looked back at the stream. Now, in the silence of the forest, she thought she could hear a waterfall. The sound was coming from upstream. Leading Avernardi by his bridle, she followed the water to its source: a large pool into which a stream of water fell from a solid face of rock. The grass in the area seemed particularly vibrant, and the silence was strange . . . as if time stood still.

The scene reminded her of something, and she sensed that there was more to it than met her eye. She stepped forward, but her foot caught and she fell facedown.
That was clumsy of me
. She rose, dusted the dirt from her clothes, and gazed at the stone over which she had tripped. It seemed out of place and . . .
what’s this?
The stone was one of many that had been laid with evident care on an oblong mound near the water’s edge. A burial mound!