The Forgotten Crown (2019) Book 1 of The Broken Crown Series

36. Comes a Dragon

Garen of Thor Grind gazed upon the Dagger of Dorn. The river Dorn fell majestically to its rocky feet where it continued South, flowing through the Hinter lands, crossing into Barund and finally pouring into the great vastness of the Ocean.

The familiar sight was welcome indeed as it meant his long journey home was almost at an end. His men were dirty, home sick and weary, both in body and soul. The last six months had been hard, toilsome work. Tracking the legion's movements and protecting their borders had taken its toll. Three sturdy mounts now sat bereft of good men.

The Prince looked forward to a warm hearth and bed. He only wished he had better tidings to bring his father. The small caravan plodded along, drawing closer to the river and the promise of respite. Sleep had fled Garen in the night, after waking from strange visions of terror. Haunting eyes and strange lights...a desperate ride through the woods ending in terrible agony.

The men broke their fast at the riverside, cheered by its familiar company. All seemed well until the horses began to shift nervously, prancing about in agitation. A heavy feeling grew in Garen's chest as his men attempted to settled their spooked mounts.

A flash of lightning in a perfectly sunny sky drew their eyes to the top of the Dagger. A cry arose as part of the ridge tore away from the mountainside, carrying screaming horses and riders into the depths. A solitary figure flew through the air bright as a flame before jerking unnaturally from its steed and plunging over the precipice. The whole basin screamed in one voice, echoing down the mountain range; a woman's scream. Hair stood on end at the agonized sound. The air vibrated as if in protest before the water below swelled upward into a fist to carry the figure from sight.

The Barundians stood as if they were dead men. The prickle of Magic punctuated the air like the buzz of a swarm of bees. The shrill whinny of a horse brought the Lord to his senses and they set about the grim task of searching the river for survivors.

"Milord another soldier." Twilight was fast upon them, two grotesquely bloated horses, one dead soldier and two dead slavers were all their efforts had produced.

Garen had no fond feelings for the usurper's soldiers or slavers yet he could not help but feel a twinge of pity. It was a terrible way to die. To see the two working together was of concern. "No sign of a woman?"

"Not yet, Milord."

"Keep looking, we will search until we run out of daylight." Garen walked the rim of the turbulent pool as far as he could, before heading the other direction, all the way back to the far side of the waterfall. He gazed upon the mist, searching for answers, willing the falls to give up its secrets. Something of import had happened on that cliff top. Someone who had needed help had gone over the falls and his gut told him he had to find her. Garen felt the least he could do was give the poor woman a proper burial, she had left this world fighting for her life.

A wisp of scarlet caught his eye and he plunged into the water, wading waist deep until he reached a film coated sandbar. Crawling over the bar, he found his scarlet banner streaming in the water, its bearer half beached in the sand. Shouting for aid, Garen dug the woman from the muck. Clearing the filth from her face, he almost dropped her in shock to find her still breathing.

Her body was ominously cold and still; her breath faltering. A long shaft protruded from the tender hollow between her shoulder and heart. Frantically he beat at her chest and pushed on her stomach. "Forgive me" he mumbled, but it was necessary. Choking and spewing she lurched to consciousness and he turned her to expel the water from her body.

Why, she was just a girl! The girl rasped and shuddered violently and her eyes fluttered open for a brief moment. They shone as if lit by some inner fire. Her icy fingers closed around his and then she slipped back into whatever darkness consumed her. A White light blazed on her chest then guttered and flickered like a dying flame.