The Dragonprince's Heir (17 page)

9. Travelers

With the old man's help, it was remarkably simple to escape the town. He sent me with one of his own guards down dark halls and out through a side passage. The guard took me as far as the citadel gate, where I waited in shadows and fear until a servant brought my horse. It was saddled again, bags secured to the cantle. I scrambled up into the saddle, glanced nervously over my shoulder, then nodded to the guards.

They let me through the wicket gate, and I rode by starlight down the boulevard. Out through the city gate and into the mountain passes. I moved down the switchback road much faster than the king's great caravan had done, and in an hour I was on the eastbound road toward the plains.

The night was still and quiet, the breeze pleasantly cool and sweet with the smell of mountain pines. Stars shone bright in a clear sky, and we had the whole wide road all to ourselves. Still, my horse danced nervously, rolling his great eyes and snorting in irritation every few paces. It took me some time to realize he was taking it from me.

My body was wound tight as a spring. My hands clenched into painful fists on the reins and my jaw ached from clenching my teeth. Around the same time, I realized I was glancing constantly back over my shoulder, up the road toward the city. It lay silent and sleeping, resting for a busy day tomorrow, but right now it had no attention to spare for a lone horseman leaving under the stars.

I told myself that. I told myself there was no crime in traveling by night. I told myself there was no call for the Guard to chase me. I told myself that if they were going to catch me at all, it would have happened back in the city. I told myself I was free.

It did no good. Still I startled as much as the horse, and I went nearly four miles worrying constantly about the Royal Guard. I glanced back yet again, and my hand fell to my hilt for some measure of comfort. I imagined Caleb's scathing glare, his vicious voice barking at me, "Don't touch a weapon unless you're prepared to use it." I felt a flash of shame.

And then of understanding. It wasn't the Guard I feared at all. For all the threats I'd heard, the king's men had done me no harm. No, it was the sight of Caleb I dreaded. He was the one I expected to come pounding down the road behind me, or leaping out of the bushes ahead. I expected him to appear at any moment out of the darkness, without sound and without warning. He'd call me a fool and cuff my hands and drag me back to my place.

But not tonight. Not anymore. I was free of that. The distant horizon was still black, but dawn was coming and Mother would be bound for the capitol. Caleb would never leave her. Even if he didn't know what help I had, even if he didn't guess how far I'd gotten, he wouldn't risk being away from her when the ships sailed at dawn. He would go with her to court, just as they both had secretly wished, and I would be free.

The tension in my shoulders drained away. A burden on my chest lifted, too, and for what seemed like the first time in weeks, I took an easy breath and let it out. The path ahead would not be simple. I knew that much. But now I had a purpose and no shadow hanging over me. I tried a smile, and it came easy. I settled into my horse's rolling gait and headed for the dawn.

I put two more hours between me and the city then stopped to eat. There was still enough hard tack to get me three days down the road, but even traveling fast and light I'd need more than that to make it home. There were towns upon the road, though. The king's train had worked hard to pass them by, but I could stop at one of the wayfarers' inns between Cara and Tirah before I headed back south.

I finished my meager meal and drained nearly the last of the water from my skin. That would be a more pressing need, but rivers and streams were far more plentiful here than they were down south. Then I stowed my possessions and started east again. I watched the first hints of sunrise paint the sky. The King's Way was still in shadows, winding through the deep cleft of the Cara Pass, but I could see out and down, perhaps a mile ahead, where the mountains fell away and the plains of the South Ardain glowed gold and green and red.

To my left and right, the walls of the pass were steep and boulder-strewn, thick with hardy pines and shadows. As I stared up into the lingering darkness, I felt the vaguest shape of memory. There was a story my father had told about these hills, this stretch of road. The king had been involved, and Father had made himself a hero. Or had that been in the Whitefalls Pass? I couldn't quite recall the details.

While my imagination sought the pieces of that drama, I heard a rustle in the undergrowth up ahead. I jerked my head that direction and strained my eyes, but I saw nothing. The
clap-clop
of the horse's hooves was suddenly startlingly loud in the early morning. Then another noise among the branches closer to the road set my heart to hammering.

I stared until my eyes burned and watered, and just as I thought my heart might burst, a bird let out a mocking cry. I jumped at the sudden sound, then the bird called out again, and I shook my head in shame.

As the silence settled back, I turned for another look at the city above me. Dawn colored the high mountainside now and glowed white off the walls and towers on the citadel. Down on the docks they'd be loading the ships. Mother would be worrying, and Caleb would be stomping around like a thunderstorm. He certainly wasn't coming for me, though. I chuckled at my imagination and turned the horse back down the road.

I needed sleep. That was it. I'd needed sleep before the night began, and it had been a long and exciting one. But that could wait a few hours more. Down on the plains I'd find an inn and sleep through day and night. Why hadn't Caleb even considered that possibility? I'd eat a hot meal and listen to a song. I'd feast and rest and then I'd go back home.

I glanced into the trees over my right shoulder just in time to see a little stone, gray and green, come tumbling down the slope. I forced myself to keep moving while curses rang inside my head. A branch snapped some dozen paces back. Not just my imagination then. He'd really found me. I had been so close to freedom.

Then I heard a footfall on the road behind me. I stopped in place and squeezed my eyes against the frustration. My hand closed around the hilt of my sword, for a thin shred of comfort more than any thought of using it. I sighed, and my shoulders fell. "I'm not going to make it home, am I?"

"Oh, come on lad. It's not so bad as that!" It wasn't Caleb's voice, nor either of the knights'. It was a country accent far too close to laughter to sound like any of my caretakers. "I'm only stopping to say good morning."

I turned and found a skinny little man, older than my father would've been, dressed in leather and linen both stained forest green. I watched another man, younger but dressed the same, come stumbling down the slope and out onto the road beside him. He raised both arms above his head in a languorous stretch and yawned to shame a wolfhound. Then he nodded across at me. "You've found a traveler, Old Jim? Will he be joining us?"

"Haven't asked him yet," the old man said.

The other looked me up and down and gave a grin. "Good morning, friend. You're heading to the city?"

"Coming from," I said. "Heading east and south."

"Tirah?"

I shook my head. "Not that far east."

His face split in a grin that took me off guard, and he nodded down toward my belt. "If you'll take your hand off that fine weapon there, I'll be pleased to make your acquaintance."

I looked down and instantly felt a blush burn high in my cheeks. I let go the weapon and hooked my thumbs behind my belt instead. "Sorry," I said. "I thought you were someone else."

He raised both eyebrows at me, then exchanged a meaningful look with the older man. "Someone coming after you?" He threw a glance back at the city, then narrowed his eyes at me. "I hear the King's Guard has been through here lately. Wouldn't want any trouble with them."

"No trouble at all," I said. "I've got a friend who likes to play pranks."

It was a poor excuse, and he almost challenged me on it. But at last he shrugged and took a couple quick steps forward to extend his hand. "Brady Fox," he said. "And this here's Old Jim. We're heading south of Tirah ourselves."

"Good fortune," I said, but distantly. I tried to call to mind the map from the tower library, showing all of Southern Ardain. Even before the dragonswarm there'd been little civilization south of Tirah. Now it was almost entirely abandoned in favor of the tower's safety. I frowned. "Where are you from?"

"From? We're from Deichelle up north." He scratched his eyebrow, then shrugged one shoulder. "Heard you fellas don't have much trouble with dragons down here anymore. Heard there was miles and miles of empty land needed workin'."

"There is that," I said, remembering the map again. "Hundreds of miles, really. But it's hard land."

Old Jim barked a laugh and Brady followed him with a little chuckle. Brady said, "Can't be much harder than harvesting the corn while reds are burning down your farmhouse for the fun of it."

"Forget the corn," Old Jim said. "He was lucky to get out of there with his life. Poor ol' Sarah."

"Haven have 'er," Brady said, automatically. Then he gave me a tight smile. "We're hard folks, young man. It's more'n two months from Deichelle to here, the way we come. We've seen dragonflights and bandit towns and quiet folk becoming wild mobs just at learning we were down from the coast."

"Mobs?" I asked, astonished. "Did you say bandit towns?"

Old Jim chuckled and shook his head.

Brady nodded. "You must be from deep down south if you're as surprised as that."

I licked my lips, and then I shrugged. "Born and raised in the Tower of Drakes."

Brady's eyes got wide. "It's real then?"

Old Jim bumped his elbow and nodded to my sword. "You've seen the pretty weapon on his hip. Boy's probably some kind of lord."

Brady gasped. "You're not really?"

I smiled and shook my head. "There are no lords in the Tower of Drakes."

"Funny," Old Jim said. "I heard how they have a prince."

"The Dragonprince," Brady said. "Killed a hundred dragons in the first days of the swarm and stole their gold to make a throne."

"A throne?" I laughed at that. "We have no thrones of gold."

"But there is gold?"

There was gold. There was gold enough to buy the old king's name. I had enough in the purse on my belt to live in luxury in Cara or Tirah. We did not use it much, but it was there, in caverns carved of living earth to hide it from the dragons.

"They take power from it," I said. "The dragons. They need our treasures to make them strong. They feed on our love for gold. We don't do things that way in the Tower."

Old Jim bumped Brady's elbow again with a cackle. "That's a yes if ever I heard one. Ahh, it's all true. They're rich as kings down here."

"No. No! It's not like that. We're not rich. We don't play with it. We lock it away. We work for each other. Everyone works. We train for war three days a week. It's a hard life in the Tower of Drakes."

"No harder than ol' Sarah's life on the farm," Old Jim said.

"Hush," Brady snapped. He spread his hands in supplication. "Forgive him. We've been a long time on the road, living on hope more than anything else."

"Hope and bad bread," Old Jim said.

I thought of the three days' rations in my saddlebags and forced a generous smile. "I have some dried beef and tack in my bags. Or come with me as far as the next inn and I'll buy you a dinner to make you think of home."

Old Jim bumped Brady's elbow, drawing a scowl. The younger man smoothed it away quickly, and nodded graciously to me. "You're a right gentleman," he said. " And I'm sure we'll find a kinder welcome in your southern towns with a little local lord for company."

It wasn't quite a compliment, but he said it with such a funny grin that I couldn't feel the sting of it. I laughed at him and nodded back to the trees. "Do you need help breaking a camp? Um. Why did you camp so close to the town? Why not go on up? There's room enough for guests in Cara."

Brady looked away, but Old Jim jumped in to answer. "Folks hain't been too happy to have us passing through. Farmers and blacksmiths're bad enough. There's guards up there in steel."

"It's really that bad?" I asked.

"Dangerous folk on the roads these days," he said. "But I don' have to tell you that." He pointed a bony finger at the sword on my belt, and I remembered the way I'd greeted them.

I looked to Brady. "Is that why you...?"

He nodded. "You didn't look a bandit. Not all alone. But one can never be too sure." He gave a little embarrassed smile. "Besides that, swords make me nervous."

"Swords?" I laughed out loud and immediately regretted it. He looked away, ashamed, and I reached out a hand to him. "No, I'm sorry. It's just so strange. I've trained with every kind of weapon since I was old enough to hold one. Swords are everywhere, where I come from. Crossbows and pikes and daggers for disemboweling."

He went pale at that, and I bit my tongue. "I'm sorry," I said again. "I've never really met a northerner."

He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it a moment later. "No."

I frowned. "No?"

"No. We have no camp to break. Everything we owned was stolen two days north of here, and we were lucky to get out with our lives."

I shook my head, trying to imagine such a lawless world. I supposed it had to be out there. That was the whole point of the Tower, wasn't it? Father had brought us together to prevent us falling into that kind of chaos. But there were far more lands than the Tower could protect. I shivered at the thought of it.

Brady smiled. "I suppose we've got much to learn from one another, little lord."

"I'm not a little lord," I said, with a smile despite myself. "Call me Taryn. Just Taryn."

"Taryn from the Tower," Old Jim said. "It has a ring."

"It has a ring," Brady echoed. "Now lead us on, Taryn. Buy me a hot a meal and some decent beer, and I'll call you king if you ask it of me."