Emma said as if the question was stupid and something everyone should know. “Because that is what happened.”
“Do you also know what happened?” I asked, intrigued by both the idea that she could, and perhaps she could better explain how she knew. I’d sensed a reluctance in Kendra to discuss some subjects, lately. It may have been a natural reaction to new and strange things or the perception that I couldn’t understand because I didn’t share her unique abilities. Or, it may have been something else, so I watched my sister as the words of the question fell from my lips.
“Of course,” Emma said in the manner all little girls use when speaking to adults about something they believe they should already know. Her left hand was on her hip, her lower lip extended in a pout, an expression much like Kendra often used to use on me—and sometimes still does.
We all laughed at her, but in the back of my mind, the situation had turned more serious. Just how much did Emma know, and what did she hide? We knew so little of her powers. How could we test her to find out the true extent? She was like a puppy in a field of wildflowers sniffing each one. How could we tell which she had already sniffed, which she liked, and a hundred other questions? The truth for us was simple to discern. We didn’t know any answers, let alone what the correct questions were to ask.
Flier waved for us to continue our journey. He was two or three hundred paces in front of us when the dragon flew along the surface of the river, following the twists and turns as if it was a game. It turned to the left, the right, and back again, so low the wind from the tips of the wings caused ripples in the water.
I couldn’t be certain, but it turned and looked at Kendra as if it was happy to see her again. Of course, that might be my imagination. Dragons can’t feel affection for humans, can they?
It flew on as we paused as one to watch it, despite Flier yelling that we needed to move faster. We hurried to make up time.
The footing along the river was solid, dry, and there was a path through the tall grass that told of many other feet passing that way, but because of wind blowing sand most afternoons, we didn’t know whose feet they were. We didn’t even know if they were human.
The river took a wide bend to our right, and where that happened, the trees grew in a thick and tangled mass. Adding water to the desert sand made it bloom. A flock of birds flew as one from the trees, and I kept my eyes on that place. Had they been startled or were they searching for food together?
We moved closer without any indication of a trap. However, I felt eyes watching us. Flier paused and held up his fist, the signal for us to stop. He watched the same place as me.
After what seemed long enough to walk all the way to Vin, a single man emerged and walked slowly and carefully to Flier. No doubt others watched from concealment.
The man wore a battered gray uniform, the pants, and tunic more or less the same color. Flier moved ahead slowly and looked like he called out something, but we couldn’t hear.
“Be ready to run across the river. It’s shallow enough, and we can decide what to do from there,” I said. “It’s easier to defend if our opponents are slowed by being in the water.” While not much of a barrier, it might give us time to defend ourselves.
Flier advanced on the man slowly as he talked, then bolted ahead, arms raised.
“Run,” I ordered, stepping into the water and prepared to help the others.
“No,” Anna called. “Look!”
Flier had reached the man in the uniform, and they embraced, then danced as they refused to let go of one another and spun in joyous circles. I waded ashore and joined the girls as we cautiously advanced.
Flier called to us as he kept an arm over the shoulder of the man, “We were messengers together. We called him Slacker because he always managed to get out of the hard details.”
Both wore wide smiles. The man’s tattered and filthy uniform made him an officer, and his age prevented me from seeing him as a fleet messenger, but not many in their early thirties would. He stood taller than Flier and heavier. Big-boned, some would say. His feet and hands were large, as were his shoulders and long legs. Picturing him younger and thinner brought an image of a lanky runner with a long stride.
I reached out to shake his hand as more men emerged from the trees. Their uniforms were in as bad shape as Slacker’s, with mismatched pants and tunics, a variety of hats, and unkempt appearances. That applied to all but their weapons. Swords, bows, and even spears were polished, sharpened, and oiled against rust.
Five of them eventually stood awkwardly with us, and there were a few glimpses of at least two more held in reserve within the trees. While their clothing was a collection of rags, their weapons and tactics seemed professional.
Slacker invited us to talk in the shade, and we readily accepted.
Their camp was concealed and fortified, and immediately several items stood out. While it was a defensive camp, open to attack from the river, a small ridge created by the river flooding stood behind. A single opening had been cut through the sandstone to allow one person at a time to climb a ramp to the top. The narrow slot of stone could be blocked by the boulders on either side, balanced and ready to fall when smaller rocks were removed from the base.
Above the ridge, which was higher than my head, spread a short wall, tall enough to kneel behind. A small force could hold that position from a hundred attackers—for a short time.
Slacker noticed my interest. “After we slow them down here, we will head into the desert where we have hidden water supplies. A single day out there without enemies having water gives us all the advantage. A man cannot carry enough for a full day. Our plan is to lead them deep into the dry-lands where we will stop at several caches of water, and then we’ll attack them the second or third day if needed. The desert will probably do our work. We have to survive.”
Flier said, “You’ve done it before?”
“Three times, so far. Lost two men and a few were wounded once, but not bad when fighting a larger force.”
“Who are you fighting?” Kendra asked, speaking for the first time.
I noticed with her first words, none of Slacker’s men had said anything. They were not unfriendly, but neither were they happy to see us. Their eyes had the lack of focus that comes with boredom and hardship over a long time.
Slacker said to Flier, “About the same time you disappeared all those years ago, the king also disappeared. I mean, he issued directives and did all the usual things, but nobody ever saw him. About a year later, he tired of ruling, so appointed a Council of Royals to act in his stead.”
Kendra sighed, “And nobody ever saw him officiate or attend a ball. It was as if he didn’t exist.”
“At first,” Slacker defended himself, “we all believed it seemed odd, but nothing for commoners to question. Especially, those of us in the army who were sworn to serve him. We still had our generals and orders to follow.”
I also knew where the tale was going. The ruling body seized control of essential services and those who objected or refused had accidents and were replaced by people supportive of the Council. It was the same story as in other places.
“Mages?” I found myself asking.
Slacker seemed surprised by my blurted question. “Two, at first. Now they are gone.”
I looked at Kendra for confirmation. She nodded, confirming there were presently none in Vin. Then her eyebrows narrowed slightly, and she held her index finger and middle finger pointing down at her foot. It was our signal that she wanted to tell me something in private.
Because of my question, it was probably something to do with mages or their disappearance. However, we’d reached a sunken firepit, obviously to keep the flames from being seen at a distance. An iron grate sat on the rocks containing it, and a large fire-blackened pot hung from an iron tripod over the fire. Food cooked, and to my nose, it was the best aroma I’d ever smelled.