Squire Derel Page 2

  I pushed the thought aside and rifled through the man’s pockets. He had no pack on him, and only a pistol in hand. Other than a canteen that hung around his neck, I found nothing.

  Then, I turned my sights on the beast. It was dead. I checked, and then re-checked. Blood ran down its scaly face, and it lay unmoving, unbreathing. It was dead.

  Still, there was something truly terrifying about it, even in death. Razor sharp teeth poked out from its mouth. I hadn’t paid much attention to the teeth before. Fire had consumed the larger part of my fears. But now that it wasn’t trying to roast me, I saw the teeth with a sense of wondering horror. Its feet – or are they paws? – were tipped with long, thin, razorlike claws. I shuddered at the thought of what they’d do to flesh and bone. Flame was hardly the only weapon at a wyvern’s disposal.

  It wasn’t just the piercing and shredding apparatus, though. Everything about the creature terrified, from the unnatural shimmer of its silver scales to the high crests on its head. Unnatural, though, was not the word for it. Supposedly, these beasts predated my own race, and even the long-lost elves. So they were technically as natural as humankind.

  But there was something perhaps preternatural about it, too. I couldn’t have said what, but standing in front of it, even dead like this, I could feel it.

  Maybe it was just awe, mixed in with the fear. Maybe it was seeing a wyvern, up close.

  But whatever it was, I had work to do. I gritted my teeth, skirted the snaking neck and lifeless head, and went for the saddle.

  A kind of ladder hung here, with single-hold, leather rungs. I took a breath, took hold of one of the rungs, and began my climb.

  The wyvern was still eerily warm underneath me, and the climbing motion sent spasms of pain through my back where I’d been burnt. The angle, too, was strange, with the dragon as much on his side as anything else. Now and then, the ladder would shift under me.

  So I was grateful when I’d reached the saddle, and could pull myself up. It was raised a little off the dragon’s back, with footholds for the rider. All of that was interesting, and, if I’d had more time, I suppose I would have examined it in greater detail. But my KP was bleeding out, and Phillip was in a world of hurt. Curiosity would have to wait.

  Strapped to the back of the saddle, there was a pack tucked under a bedroll. I grabbed both. I wasn’t sure we’d need both, but I didn’t want to climb back up here a second time if I could help it.

  Scooting as far as I dared, I let my legs dangle off the side of the dragon, then dropped. The impact sent a shiver of pain up my back, but I gritted my teeth and sprinted back to Ilyen. “Got his pack, KP.”

  “Anything we can use?”

  “Not sure yet.” I pulled open the pack, setting the contents out. There was food, another canteen, a change of clothes and – to our mutual relief – a small medkit.

  “Good,” he said. “I have to get my bleeding under control. And we need to treat Phillip’s burns, if there’s anything in there for that.”

  Stopping the KP’s bleeding was a chore in itself. The rider had a few second skin patches that, in theory, were supposed to graft onto the site of an injury and plug up any holes. But Ilyen was bleeding so much, the first patch started leaking almost as soon as I put it on. The second lasted a little longer, but by time I’d closed the exit wound, blood was seeping out the front again.

  We were down to two patches. That, and the pool of blood he was in, was worrying the shit out of me. I tried again, though, applying a bit more pressure this time. He gritted his teeth but nodded. “That should make it take.”

  It did. “Try not to move too much, KP. We’ve only got one of these things left now.”

  Then, we turned to Aaronsen. Our first task was cleaning the wound. This meant removing the clothing where it had been burned into his flesh. Mostly, I worked, and Ilyen closed his eyes and caught his breath.

  The odor was horrifying, and my stomach roiled with every new whiff. It was a combination of campfire and cooked flesh smells; except it was my friend’s cooked flesh I was smelling.

  I was glad Phillip was out for this. Even if the smell didn’t hit him like it did me, I could only imagine how much it would have hurt to have pieces of fabric picked out of open wounds.

  “We don’t have anything for burns. Best we can do is wrap it – lightly – to keep out dirt. You doing okay, Derel?”

  “Yessir.”

  “You want me to take over? You’re looking a little green.”

  “I got it.”

  He watched me with careful blue eyes, then nodded. “Alright. But if you hurl – make sure it’s not on him.”

  I forced a grin onto my features. “You’re a hell of a mentor, KP. Don’t know where I’d be without your counsel.”

  He smiled too, through a grimace of pain. “Yeah, yeah. Smartass.”

  Chapter Three – Callaghan

  Today marked the beginning of my least favorite time of autumn: new recruit training. It was the first day of the eight weeks when my quiet village teamed with the young and dumb: swaggering boys and cocksure girls, all with something to prove to someone.

  Their point of origin was the base at the edge of town, but like a bad infection, they seemed to spread whenever given the chance. And seeing as how the bars on base closed when the foundlings showed up…well, after a few days of intense training and nothing to wash down the bland military rations, even a podunk town like ours becomes a destination.

  Not that the good folks of Shire’s End minded much. It was a red-letter day for the taverns and eateries when the new recruits showed up. They could charge premium prices for their worst ales, and the wet-behind-the-ears kids wouldn’t know any better. They didn’t have to be too particular about the food, either, especially as the liquor flowed more freely. Base rations were notoriously bad.

  It was all part of introducing these green recruits to the full military experience, a way to cull the herd: if you couldn’t survive a little gruel, and grueling hours, service wasn’t for you.

  That, and maybe a sadistic streak on the base commander’s part. Senior Knight Protector Kyle Lidek loved nothing more than reminding willing – or unwilling – listeners of the trials of service back in his day.

  He had something of a point. There’d been war, in Lidek’s day. Not the kind of border skirmishes that happened every once in a while now, that left a few wounded or dead, but real war, that left entire battalions dead.

  Still, he was an old man living firmly in the past, a soldier reliving his glory days vicariously, in the suffering he inflicted on new waves of enlistees. He made no bones about it, either. “My fighting days are over. But that doesn’t mean the fight’s over. You laugh all you want, Lilia, but there’ll be blood in the fields again. And making sure these boys become men, these girls women? Well, that’s my fight now. And it’s every bit as important as the fighting they’ll be doing. And I do not lose. I didn’t lose then, and I won’t lose now.”

  Well, more power to him. As for me, though, when it came to fresh recruits, I stayed as far away as possible. I had nothing against them. I was young and dumb once too, full of myself and sure the world would fall at my feet. I’d fought hard and partied harder in my day. I’d broken a few records in my days in training, and a few heads too.

  So I didn’t resent young and dumb. I got it. Which is precisely why I wanted nothing to do with it. I knew how much work went into babysitting squires.

  Today was day one, of fifty-six days. Fifty-six days. I turned the number over in my head as I sipped my morning coffee. Hell.

  “Morning, Knight Protector,” someone greeted.

  I glanced up to see Mayor Fitzwilliam hovering by my table. The mayor wasn’t a morning person, so if she was here, that meant she wanted something. I nodded. I wasn’t quite coffee’d up enough for fake smiles. Not yet. I guess I’m not much of a morning person, either. “Morning, Mayor. What can I do for you?”

  She nodded and pulled out a chair. “I’ve g
ot something to ask you, Callaghan. A favor.”

  Right to business, then. “Alright.” I drained my mug and signaled the waiter that I needed a refill. “What do you need?”

  “You know training starts today. At Cragspoint, I mean.”

  “I do.” I glanced around, wondering where the waiter had gone. I had a sneaking suspicion I was going to need a second cup, and stat.

  “Right. Well, you remember last year? The trouble at Siren’s Cove?”

  Siren’s Cove was one of several pubs in the area. “I do. Someone got overbilled, and wasn’t content taking it up with management, if memory serves? Squire Talari, or something like that?”

  Fitzwilliam frowned at my flippant tone. “There was a mistake on the bill. An extra round. But that’s not the point, Callaghan. The point is, Squire Talari caused a lot of property damage. The Cove was closed for days.”

  “Well, hopefully it gave their staff time to brush up on mathematics,” I said. “Figure out that one isn’t two.” Morning or not, I was grinning now.

  The mayor was not. “This is serious. What that squire did was illegal.”

  “So is cheating people. I’d say valuable lessons were learned all the way around.”

  Fitzwilliam’s frown deepened. “I’m certain the mistake was an innocent one.”

  “Of course,” I murmured, without much confidence. It was standard practice to gouge the recruits. Siren’s Cove was notorious for it. I’d believe the barkeep got a little too greedy for his own good sooner than I’d believe that it was an oversight. But the mayor was a distant cousin – or was it niece? I couldn’t remember – of the owner. She’d see things differently. “But what can I do about it? It happened last year. Talari got picked up by the military police. The base covered damages. I mean, it’s done.”

  “Yes, that incident is. But what’s to stop another from happening again?”

  “This sounds like a conversation for Lidek,” I observed. “He’s got more control over the recruits than me.”

  “Believe me, I’ve had it.”

  I did believe her, and from the steely glint to her eyes, I rather pitied Lidek. “So, then, there’s nothing I can do.”

  “There is. It was Lidek’s idea, actually.”

  I felt my jaw gape, and I had to force myself to close it. “Lidek’s idea?” That backstabbing bastard.

  “Yes. You know the militia here is…well, probably more a wartime defense force than a police force.”

  I snorted. That was a generous evaluation for a band of old men and young boys who had always lived under the shadow of protection from a military base. “You think so?”

  “I do. We’re very lucky to have them, of course.”

  “Of course.” I looked around again for the waiter. I was going to need a whole pot of coffee to make it through this much bullshit.

  “But their skillset is not optimal for this situation. You remember what happened to poor Davis, when he tried to break up that fight in the square last year?”

  “Broken nose.”

  “No, that was his cousin, Yelchin.”

  “That’s right. I always mix them up.”

  “Davis wound up with a broken jaw.”

  I winced. “I remember now.” He’d had to eat from a straw for a while. Shire’s End had held a fundraiser – perversely enough, a dinner – to benefit the man and his family. I’d escaped by donating rather handsomely. “But I still don’t see how I can help.”

  “I think a Knight Protector’s presence would carry a lot of weight.”

  “Presence? You mean…what, exactly? Patrolling?”

  “Nothing so formal. Just kind of keep an eye on things. Drop into the taverns. Stop by the pubs. If you see a crowd, introduce yourself. Let them know you’ll be keeping an eye on things.”

  I blinked. “You mean, babysit an entire base full of squires?”

  “Not at all. Just keep an eye on the village, Callaghan. As long as they see you, and know you’re there, they’ll behave. They’re really like children, in a lot of ways: they act up, as soon as they think their parents aren’t watching.”

  “Children who are quite proficient in the use of deadly weapons. And their fists.”

  “I’m sure it won’t come to anything so drastic.”

  “It did for Yelchin and Davis.”

  “Yes. But – and bless their hearts – you’re more diplomatic than either of them.”

  I snorted. I was not feeling very diplomatic.

  “And anyway,” she continued, “you’re much better prepared to defend yourself.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring.”

  “You are a Knight Protector,” she reminded me. “I have absolute faith that you’ll be able to manage a few squires.”

  I scowled at her, but before I could make a reply, a voice interrupted. “More coffee, ma’am?” It was the waiter.

  “Yes, please. In fact, you might as well bring me a carafe. I’m going to need it.”

  “Of course.” He leaned over to fill my mug, then added, “I’ll be right back.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So is that a yes, then?” Fitzwilliam pressed once he’d gone.

  “I don’t know, Mayor. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. It’s almost harvesting time on the estate, plus our town committees are trying to wrap up the east street project, and –”

  “I know you’re busy, Callaghan. And I’m happy to find replacements if you need to take a temporary leave from your committees. I can send some extra hands up to work on the harvest. But keeping the peace is our number one need right now.”

  I grumbled into my coffee cup, searching my mind for a good excuse. A long sip of coffee later, and still none had presented itself.

  “Well?” she prodded.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “Fine, I’ll do it. But, dammit, Fitzwilliam, I hate the idea of babysitting.”

  “I know,” she said, flashing a grin. “But you’ve got the right personality for it.”

  “I do?” I was incredulous. I was just about the last person I’d choose for babysitting detail, and not only for selfish reasons.

  “You do: you’ll strike the fear of the gods into their hearts, if they piss you off.”

  Chapter Four – Derel

  We’d done what we could to clean Aaronsen’s injuries. He’d come to a little while later and was in a world of hurt. There were a few syringes of pain killer in the dragon rider’s pack, and Ilyen insisted that he didn’t need one. “Save them for Phillip.”

  Now came the business of getting help. “There’s no way I can make the walk. And Phillip’s in worse shape than me. I’m sorry, Ana. But it’s going to have to be you.”

  “I can’t just leave, KP. What if there’s more riders out there? What about wildlife? There’s bears in these parts, and wolves too.”

  “And mountain cats,” he nodded. “I know. I’ve got plenty of ammo. So does Phillip. We’ll be fine.”

  “What if you’re not?”

  “Derel, the longer we sit out here, the worse it gets. These patches won’t hold forever. Aaronsen’s burns are going to start getting infected if they’re not treated. So, for that matter, will yours.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. My back hurt like hell, but compared to these two, well, I was fine.

  “Good. Because we need you to go back and get help.” I hesitated, and he flashed me a wan smile. “Don’t make me make than an order, Ana.”

  I didn’t argue further. There were no supplies to pack. Ilyen made me take one of the canteens and some of the food, though I would have rather saved it for them. Then, though, I said my goodbyes and made ready to set out.

  The KP expressed his concern in the standard fashion: a meticulous and wholly unnecessary list of dangers to look out for and pitfalls to avoid – the kind of stuff we covered when I was a green squire like Phillip, about how to cover my scent when I rested, a reminder to avoid drinking still waters, and so on. Ilyen’s worry manifested in a mother hen routine.


  Aaronsen’s manifested in tears. He didn’t shed them, but his eyes welled, and his voice caught. “Sorry, Ana. I should have…I should have listened.”

  “Hey, you just make sure you keep yourself alive,” I said. “I’m going to be really pissed if I find out you left the KP on his own. You know what a baby he is when he gets hurt.”

  “I’ll kick your ass, Derel,” Ilyen warned.

  “See what I mean?” I flashed Phillip a grin, and he smiled too. “You gotta take care of him.”

  “I will,” he said.

  “You’re both going to end up scrubbing toilets when we get back.”

  “Oh no. Not me. Your petty tyranny is going to have to wait.” I added impudently, “Sir. I’m going to make the most of this. Get the doc to put me on medical leave for a few months. Maybe head back home for a bit.”

  “That sounds good,” Phillip agreed.

  “Yeah, not if I can help it. It’s latrine duty for the pair of you,” he grinned.

  “Come on, KP. We’ll cut you in on the action. We can all get off with a nice, paid three-month medical leave.”

  “Three?” He snorted now. “I won’t settle for anything less than six.”

  “See? Now we’re talking.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Go on. Get a move on it, Derel. And remember to watch your six.” I shot him a faux scowl, and he shrugged. “Just take care of yourself is all I mean.”

  That, then, was that. I went on my way, and before long the camp was out of sight, lost to the trees. The camp, the dead dragon, and my team too.

  There weren’t many roads out here by No Man’s Land, and I couldn’t afford to take the scenic route along the border’s twists and turns. I cut through the forest, keeping to trails when I could, in the direction of the logging town.

  Fort Terrence wasn’t a fort, and never had been. No one seemed to know who or what the Terrence in its name referred to, either. There were local legends about an early settler called Terrence. Depending on who was telling the story, he’d been an outlaw, a trapper, a knight, a hermit, and any of half a dozen other things.