The Return of the Dragonhawk

Chapter 9 - Lord Pymak O'Nagapples

"We reckoned you for dead when Panax returned on his own," the elder Drawyn repeated for the dozenth time. He was in a celebratory mood, and had brought out his best brandy. Young Drawyn was less effusive about the miraculous reappearance of "yer lordship"; however, he did not seem unduly displeased.

"Be the Dragonkeeper fearsome as tale-spinners reckon?" young Drawyn queried. "What weapons did you see? Be his nags as fine as ours? How many swords do you reckon at his command?"

"They are just a ragtag band of looters," Rhoz said. "I pity the women and children they have with them."

"You don' look to the Shadow Warriors to bring back the glory days?" the elder Drawyn asked.

"They will need to gather much more support before they can begin a quest like that," Rhoz said, her lips tightening. She would have preferred to paint Alyx in glowing colours, worthy of the fiery steed he rode.

"You reckon you can find his camp again if need be?"

Rhoz shook her head. "I was blindfolded on the way in, and came out in pitch darkness. I am not sorry for my lack of knowledge."

"After all his shabby ways?" young Drawyn asked. "Yer not dreaming of settling the score?"

"No. Every hand and weapon will be needed when the hordes invade from the Northlands."

The elder Drawyn stiffened. "Yer certain they be coming?"

"So Berto told me."

"Past time to drive my nags south beyond the Great Wall," Drawyn said. "But our noble Akkyn lays claim to 'em, ev'ry one."

"What?"

"Aye." Drawyn's shoulders slumped. "I be no more than a serf on me own land now. I can' dispose of me own nags, but needs must hand 'em over at his Kynship's pleasure. The finest are gone already."

A quick glance at young Drawyn's face told Rhoz that Cloudy was one of the "finest" which had been taken. Her heart swelled with sympathy.

"Ten more be wanted at Muktarshold afore the next new moon," the elder Drawyn continued.

"That is outrageous!" Rhoz exclaimed. "Muktar is turning his citizens into slaves!"

"He dunno that free men fight fiercer for their own goods than bondsmen will for another's," the elder Drawyn said morosely, taking yet another swig of his brandy.

"It seems there was little to gain by turning Panax loose," Rhoz said. "No matter. It is my turn to sleep in the barn tonight, and I mean to make the most of it."

The elder Drawn smiled. "Please yerself."

She repressed the urge to hug him. "Are there blankets in the barn?" she asked around a lump in her throat.

"All be as you left it."

"Sleep well then. May the Great Mistress grant you peace!"

Both Drawyns looked at her questioningly, the younger with irrepressible curiosity, and the elder with a trace of alarm in his eyes. "The Great Mistress of Hawks is worshipped in Helion," Rhoz explained, trying to make light of her slip. "My grandmother came from there, and has maintained the cult in secret."

The elder Drawyn raised a warning finger. "'Tis perilous. The mere mention of the old ways can cost a man his tongue."

"Another one of Muktar's reforms?" she asked.

"Have you been asleep all yer life? It be all forbidden since Muktar took the throne, save the way of the Celestial Light." Drawyn paused, then continued, his speech slurring a little. "They say Muktar murdered his own brother afore he scattered the Brotherhood of the Brazen One to the four winds."