Authors: R.A. Salvatore
“You would say that, yet you expect me to betray him to you?” the Shepherd asked.
“I am voicing the questions that you are afraid to ask of yourself,” Pagonel explained. “There is confusion within Merwan Ma, great and devastating. You are horrified to think that Chezru Douan would have you killed, and yet it is obvious that he tried to do exactly that. But you remain afraid to ask the questions, and so I have asked them for you.”
“You would heal my heart as you mend my wounds?” came the sarcastic response.
“Perhaps,” the mystic replied with all sincerity, and he looked at the scars crossing Merwan Ma’s belly one more time, then crawled out the back of the wagon, leaving Merwan Ma alone with the unsettling thoughts.
The Shepherd tried to put his head back against the side of the bouncing coach, but his wounds would not allow such a stretch, so he scrunched over instead, folded his arms onto his bent knees, and buried his face there. He tried to deny Pagonel’s words, over and over again, tried to reason that Shauntil had acted the part of a rogue, had grasped for power on his own by trying to murder the Chezru Chieftain’s choice for governor of Dharyan. Yes, and if only he could get back to Chom Deiru and inform the God-Voice, Shauntil would be punished for his heinous act.
Merwan Ma told himself that over and over again. And yet he understood, somewhere deep in his mind, that if he returned to Chom Deiru, he would likely be summarily executed.
But why?
He scoured his memories for any offense he might have offered against the God-Voice, however unintended. He could see nothing glaring.
But one image, that of a bloody Yakim Douan cravenly clutching a chalice, kept coming to mind.
That had been the turning point, obviously, but what crime, what sin, had he committed concerning the chalice? He knew of its unexpected content, that gemstone, but had told not a soul. Nor could he even be certain that there was anything amiss concerning that gemstone. Perhaps it was nothing more than a decorative filler block, that the great and ornate cup could be filled without draining too much blood from those offering the sacrifice.
There was nothing amiss about that, after all. Yatol did not forbid gemstones—only the use of magical gemstones, such as those of the Abellican heretics.
At least one of those heretics was a close personal friend of the God-Voice.
Finally, Merwan Ma tilted his head back, ignoring the stretching pull across his scarred tissue, too consumed by the awful possibilities that loomed all about him even to notice the discomfort.
It all made no sense, all seemed a preposterous trick of this Jhesta Tu mystic, attempting to bend the awful actions of one rogue Chezhou-Lei to some personal gain. And yet, though he denied it consciously and vocally, it seemed undeniable to Merwan Ma’s heart.
Chezru Chieftain Yakim Douan, his beloved God-Voice, the man to whom he had given the service of his entire adult life, had ordered him murdered.
B
rynn surveyed the landscape, the flowing brown dunes sweeping like great breakers toward the one spot of varying colors, where date trees swayed in the hot wind and grasses grew thick about their trunks, bordering a long and narrow lake. Rows of small houses lined that lake, leading up to a single brown castle, squat and thick, with weathered brown walls pierced with arrow slits and a roof that sloped in varying angles.
It had taken her three weeks to bring her army there, mostly across empty sand, for they wished to follow no course that their enemies could predict. A welcome sight indeed was this place, as any settlement would have been to the weary and battle-hungry To-gai-ru.
“Garou Oasis,” Pagonel said to her, sitting astride a horse beside her and Runtly.
“A city with no walls,” Brynn remarked.
“Typical for an oasis stop,” the mystic explained. “This is the waypoint for caravans, who pay a large tithe to water their animals and themselves.”
“As we shall do, though we’ll pay no tithe.”
“The settlers of the houses will flee before us, no doubt, into their castle,” said Pagonel. “From there, they will shower us with arrows.”
“Then we will flatten their castle before we drink,” Brynn said matter-of-factly, a coldness that was not lost on the mystic.
“Take care with this place,” Pagonel warned. “The castles of the Behren oases are the strongest fortresses in all the country. They need not house many—I would guess that fewer than five hundred live here—and yet they normally hold great storerooms of wealth, for the tithe of using an oasis is never cheap. They are built to withstand an army, and you’ll not lure them out, as you did at both Dharyan and Pruda.”
“We shall see,” Brynn said, and she turned Runtly and walked him away.
T
hey came in as a swarm of destruction, churning the soft and hot sands all about the oasis. Unlike her previous victories, Brynn held nothing back against Garou Oasis, charging her entire force, which now numbered closer to five thousand than four, in a tightening ring. Those Behrenese in the outlying houses didn’t even try to offer resistance against the To-gai-ru horde, fleeing straightaway for the defensive castle.
Most got in ahead of the To-gai-ru surge, though some were trampled down. Barely moments after the attack began, the oasis was quiet once more, with Brynn’s army surrounding the last bastion of Behrenese defense.
One group of Behrenese was not inside, though. A visiting caravan milled about the castle door, denied entrance, with nowhere to run or hide.
Brynn wouldn’t bring her soldiers in close to the well-armed fortress, though, nor did she allow the To-gai-ru to cut down the trapped merchants with their great bows.
She walked Runtly around to that side of the castle, close enough to make eye contact with some of the frantic Behrenese—and many began pounding on the
door once more at the sight of the woman given such deference by the other To-gai-ru as to mark her obviously as the fierce leader of this army.
Brynn lifted a hand to the Behrenese and motioned for them to approach.
They held back, some still pounding on the unyielding iron door.
“You have nowhere to turn,” Brynn called out to them. “Your surrender will be accepted, if offered. Else you will die where you stand.”
Those simple words seemed to break the will of many of the merchants, and they exchanged despairing looks and threw up their hands, walking out toward Brynn and bowing repeatedly.
The first volley came forth from the castle then, a hail of arrows aimed primarily at Brynn. Most fell short, though, some even cutting into the poor merchants as they made their way out from the castle.
They all scrambled, as did Brynn, leaping Runtly aside, but not before one arrow struck the pony’s foreleg, digging a deep gash and making him rear, nearly dislodging the woman.
The Behrenese merchants were in a full run, then, fleeing in terror from their own countrymen. Brynn’s soldiers pulled them in roughly, herding them to a central point, while Brynn, with Runtly back under control, marched defiantly back to her previous position.
“Despite your insolence, I offer you a similar chance to surrender,” she yelled out to the castle.
“Go away!” came a curt reply. “You cannot defeat our thick walls, fool, and we’ll not run out to do battle with you. Water your horses if you choose, for we cannot stop you, but your victory here has reached its end! Go away!”
Brynn held her sword aloft and sent a burst of fire running the length of its blade. “I am the Dragon of To-gai!” she cried. “Dharyan has fallen. Pruda has fallen. There is no escape for you. I will knock the walls of your fortress down around you!”
The answer came in the form of another volley of arrows, but Brynn was already moving her precious mount out of harm’s way.
“Water the horses and resupply on the far side of the lake,” she instructed her commanders as she crossed by them. “But keep a perimeter of scouts up and ready. If they try to flee the castle, chase them into the open desert.”
“What of them?” one tall and stern To-gai-ru warrior asked, pointing out the twenty merchant prisoners and their slaves, which included some To-gai-ru.
“Our countrymen will join with us—find them mounts from among the captured,” Brynn instructed. “Allow the Behrenese servants to go. Give them mounts and supplies enough to get them to the next town in line. And the merchants …”
Brynn paused, considering what value might be gleaned from the unexpected prisoners. “Send them south with the next group bearing wealth in the hopes of employing mercenaries. Tell our leaders in that action to use them for ransom.”
The warrior, and many others, looked at her skeptically, an expression that Brynn returned with one of inquisition.
“We agreed long ago that we would take no prisoners,” the man explained.
Brynn looked to the groveling merchants, men and women grown soft from living most of their lives in almost decadent luxury, from having others do all of their menial tasks for them.
“They will hardly hinder us,” she decided. “As we take this war more fully into Behren, employing greedy pirates and mercenaries, we will need even greater wealth, and I suspect that this group will offer anything to save their soft skins, whatever the cost to Behren.”
“Yes, my Dragon,” the warrior agreed with a brisk bow.
The title hit Brynn like a slap. She knew that many had taken to referring to her in that manner, but given what she knew of Agradeleous’ true, destructive nature, she wasn’t sure that the title was quite the compliment intended.
The warrior woman, ranger and trained in Jhesta Tu, steeled herself against those twangs of guilt. She had told the impudent Behrenese that she would topple their walls around them, and she meant to do just that. The fortress at Garou had been built to withstand the fastest spears thrown by ballistae, the heaviest shot of catapults, and the thunder of magical gemstones, the greatest engines of war ever devised by man.
But Brynn had a greater weapon than that at her disposal.
J
uraviel and Cazzira turned their heads in unison to see the approach of Brynn, the woman walking and not astride Runtly. The elves, along with Agradeleous, had put up behind the shelter of a high dune, a half mile from the besieged oasis, and as with the victory at Pruda, and despite the night of devastation he had rained upon the outposters in To-gai, insatiable Agradeleous did not seemed pleased to be left out of the fighting.
The dragon’s lip curled up over his fangs and he gave a low grumble and moved away as Brynn neared the elves.
“You did not try to lure them out,” Cazzira remarked. “I was surprised to see the whole of your force charging to battle.”
“Not the whole of her force,” came Agradeleous’ sarcastic remark.
“Different tactics for a different battleground,” Brynn explained. “I wanted them forced within the castle, and so they are, and now I mean to tear it down.”
All three heads turned on that cue, to regard the suddenly interested dragon, and Agradeleous’ lip curled again, this time with apparent delight.
Brynn walked between the elves, approaching the dragon directly. “This will be your most difficult challenge yet,” she said.
The dragon scoffed, a curious sound, hissing and rumbling all at once.
“I will take you against the fortress, destroying the shell around our enemies that my army can swarm over them,” Brynn explained.
“You should have begun the battle like that,” Agradeleous growled back at her.
“I offer you this opportunity, as I did in To-gai that night three weeks ago,” Brynn said, and again the dragon scoffed.
“Do you believe that you could stop me if I decided to take this opportunity?”
Brynn walked to stand directly before the wurm, who was in his lizardlike humanoid form, and she eyed him hard, unblinking. Behind her, Juraviel and Cazzira exchanged concerned looks, and both rushed up to stand beside the brave, and apparently foolish, woman.
“I will allow you to continue to follow my army, Agradeleous,” Brynn said firmly. “But I offer this opportunity to you only with your promise that when I require it, you will return to your lair and haunt neither To-gai nor Behren any longer.”
Agradeleous’ wide-eyed scoffing response seemed the prelude to a sudden and deadly attack, so much so that Juraviel pulled Brynn back a step and Cazzira leaped before the dragon, waving her arms to distract him and give him a moment, at least, to reconsider the strike.
But Brynn didn’t blink.
“I could destroy you here and now, human!” the dragon roared. “I could burn you where you stand, to ashes! Or grab you up in my hands and tear you in half, with hardly an effort.”
“With no effort at all, likely,” Brynn agreed. “But to what gain? And to what long-term detriment?”
The dragon narrowed its reptilian eyes, seeming hardly convinced.
“You will agree, or your time here is at its end,” Brynn said.
Agradeleous issued a long and low rumble.
“And you will be handsomely paid for your service!” Belli’mar Juraviel said suddenly, moving before Brynn. “For when To-gai is free, we will deliver a line of treasure to your lair, wealth fairly earned for your services!”
Agradeleous tried to hold his angry glower, but one eye did widen, tellingly, at the appeal of that offer.
Brynn, though, was much less thrilled that Juraviel had offered anything, or that he had intervened at all in this necessary showdown between her and Agradeleous. For in reflecting upon that horrible night in To-gai, Brynn Dharielle had decided that she would either assure herself control of the beast, or she would dismiss the beast. There could be no compromise.
“A treasure delivered by five hundred human slaves!” Agradeleous demanded suddenly, eyeing Brynn with every word.
“No!” the warrior woman shot back, and there was no compromise in her tone. “Delivered by men of free will.”
“Who will entertain me with stories—and if I find those great tales of adventure acceptable, then perhaps I will not devour them!” Agradeleous pressed.
“No!”
The dragon roared.
“Name me as your enemy here and now, then!” Brynn demanded, pushing past the elves to stand right before Agradeleous. “Strike me dead with your fiery breath and know that all the peoples south of the mountains will rise against Agradeleous. And they will take you down, united, for the war between Behren and To-gai
will seem inconsequential beside the true horror of a wild dragon. What place will you find, mighty Agradeleous, where you might sleep well again? For I know the way to your lair, and have spread out many informants, who will deliver those directions to mighty enemies if I am betrayed and killed by you.”