The Return of the Dragonhawk

Chapter 7 - Dys Daraight Klu

Rhoz woke to hard ground beneath her and the smell of pine in her nostrils. She opened her eyes with a start, then relaxed at the sight of the reassuring form of Violet lying beside her.

Not Violet -- Alyn, Rhoz reminded herself. Or better yet, Berto. I must remember.

Sunlight was streaming through several ragged holes in the large hide tent that sheltered them. A layer of evergreen branches covered with a tattered blanket provided a bed on the trampled and dying grass. Another blanket lay haphazardly over them. Rhoz moved closer to Alyn and pulled the cover over her shoulders. It was coarse, like the ones Drawyn used for his horses. But the pillow under her head was covered with ecru silk, dirty and worn, yet still hinting at elegance of old. At the edge, a dragon rampant was embroidered in sapphire blue, with the motto Dys daraight klu.

Rhoz snuggled into the bedding, wondering idly what the writing on the pillow meant. She was in no rush to face the new day. She closed her eyes again and dreamed of flying with the hawk.

It seemed only moments before she was jolted back to earth. Alyn was shaking her. "They are beginning to clear the food away! If you wish to break your fast before noonday, we must hurry."

Rhoz jumped to her feet, brushing a stray twig from her tunic. Her stomach was rumbling, reminding her that she had not had supper the night before.

"Have we found the Dragonkeeper?" she asked.

"Indeed we have. All is well, except that he wants to keep the horses. Come -- we will leave the washing and primping for later. If we do not go right now, we may go hungry for a long time."

The pair stepped into the bright sunlight. They were at the edge of an encampment of some thirty large tents in a valley fringed by mountains on both sides. A small river meandered through the flatland. Rhoz could see a number of other encampments in the distance, with herds of horses grazing nearby.

"He seems to have horses enough -- I don't know why he wants mine," Rhoz said crossly as she followed Alyn to the central cooking fire.

"Alyx means to equip an army and take to the field against Muktar," Alyn said. "He has collected malcontents from every kingdom."

"Do all the warriors of Dys follow him?"

"Not all. There are many who have fled south beyond the Great Wall. Others have taken refuge in the woods and mountains, thinking Muktar's soldiers will grow weary and go home. Some say the Shadow Warriors hurt their cause by raiding in Akynadar."

"And what do you think?"

"I think Alyx is too impetuous. Looting and destroying have become sport for him, and he forgets that those he preys upon are no different from himself, making their way as best they can in evil times. Once minstrels sang of the Dragonkeeper as a hero devoted to freedom, but no longer."

Breakfast was flatbread cooked in the fire, and a white cheese that was new to Rhoz. "What is this?" she asked.

A tall man of a certain age, who was standing nearby chewing on the last bit of his bread, grinned as he answered. "'Tis some exotic palate-tickler from abroad, taken from a merchant convoy on its way to the seaport. But it feeds the hungry just as well as the plain stuff."

"Harald!" Rhoz exclaimed, recognizing the friendly voice.

"Well met, Master Pym," Harald replied with a wink. "Have you any bruises from your fall?"

"Nothing, it seems. I was fortunate enough not to land on any rocks."

"And you slept well?"

"Indeed. I remember nothing of my arrival here. You must have handled me with utmost gentleness."