savage breed giants out of the streets and back into line. Little did those people know that she had sent the breed to terrorize them in the first place. When she began knocking the Westland nobles, who hadn’t escaped, off of their pedestals, some of the commoners began to really like her.
During King Glendar’s short and brutal stint as the king of Westland, he had rounded up nearly every able bodied man and boy and marched them off to their eventual deaths. Before he’d done that, he had decorated the bailey yards of Lakeside Castle with the piked heads of hundreds of men-Westland men. Suspected conspirators, men so loyal to his father that they tried to oppose his succession to the throne, even the common gossipers who whispered the wrong thing in the wrong ear, ended up with their heads displayed on pikes. The good people of Westland had been scared to death, and rightly so.
None of the people knew that Pael was Shaella’s father. Had they, they might not have been so accepting of her rule. The belief that it was Queen Willa’s Blacksword army, the Valleyans, and King Glendar’s evil that had taken away their husbands and sons was now prevalent. This played perfectly into Shaella’s hands because she had forbidden all trade with the Eastern Kingdoms, save for Dakahn. With all borders closed, the people were starting to feel safe again, especially since Queen Shaella was now publicly punishing the zard, and the breed, when they attacked any of the humans.
As she made her way to the map-room to meet Cole, Shaella passed a group of young merchant-men in an open corridor. They all bowed graciously to her.
“You’re looking radiant today, my queen,” one of them said as she moved past.
When the men were long behind them, Shaella spoke. “Fslandra, do you think I look radiant?”
The lizard-girl knew that Queen Shaella was mocking the young man, and she made a gurgling sound that passed for zardian laughter.
Cole was waiting for her in the map room with a silver goblet in his hand. Cole was Flick’s brother, and both of them emulated Pael just a little too much. Shaella’s father had been their mentor and teacher, and they both kept their heads free of hair and their skin as ghostly white as Pael had. Cole was the eldest. He was taller and thinner than Flick, but not by much on either count. From a distance they could easily pass as twins. They had been instrumental in the taking of Westland, and in her heart Shaella considered them as her dearest friends.
Cole started to bow to her but she waved it off. “We’re not in public, Cole. You know better.”
“Just showing my queen her proper respect,” he replied evenly.
“That’s enough, Cole.” She motioned for Fslandra to go. The lizard-girl shut the door behind her, leaving Shaella and Cole to themselves.
The room was paneled in deeply varnished oak. Along one wall there were wine-rack shelves holding hundreds of rolled maps. The opposite wall was glazed and a grand view of Lion Lake spread out before them. Expertly etched into the surface of the great oval table that filled the room was a map of the continent and its kingdoms. Shaella deftly plucked the goblet from Cole’s hand and sipped from it. She made a sour face then circled the map-table, studying it as she went.
“I hope I didn’t disturb your day,” she said, “but the idea that struck me was too marvelous to contain.”
“I’ve been dealing with reports about your Lord of Locar. It seems that Bzorch is bringing in Wildermont slaves to help build his watchtowers along the river.” Cole heaved a sigh of exasperation. “I’ve gone over seventeen different grievances concerning your pet breed giant’s conduct. Truthfully, I’m glad to be away from the mess.”
“Seventeen is too many to ignore. I’ll set out for Locar myself with a troop of zard on the morrow and settle the matter. I don’t want slaves in Westland. Bzorch can pay his laborers like everyone else.”
“You are the nicest evil sorceress queen I’ve ever met,” Cole jested. He was glad that the words Dragon Queen hadn’t slipped out of his mouth. Since she’d lost her dragon, Shaella hated the term. “Now what is this idea you can’t keep to yourself?”
“I’m driving myself crazy waiting on the High King to attack us. He has to try to get his father’s kingdom back or no one will really follow him. What good is a king who cannot hold his own kingdom? The problem is that every day he waits, he gathers more allies.” Shaella hopped up, sat on the map-table and tapped Seaward City. “I want to provoke him, force him to come at us, before he gains too much.”
“How do you want to do that?” Cole asked, his curiosity piqued.
“He’s going to marry Princess Rosa soon,” Shaella grinned. “I say we find out if High King Mikahl has enough honor to come rescue a damsel in distress. I’d like you to go to Seaward and invite Princess Rosa here for a visit.” She gave Cole a sinister wink and chuckled deviously. “Well, maybe invite wasn’t quite the word I was looking for.”
Chapter Seven
Had to be that fargin dwarf, thought Hyden, as he darted to the bushes for the fifth or maybe the sixth time that afternoon. Phenilous wouldn’t dare betray me. Brady Culvert was a possible suspect as well, but not a likely one. The Wildermont guardsman’s sense of duty was second to none. Hyden knew that someone had betrayed him though. Someone had conspired with High King Mikahl to get the squat weed into his cup or his canteen. Maybe it was the wagon driver, or one of his two helpers; or was it someone else in the escort?
“It’s like traveling with a wee little girl,” commented Oarly the dwarf from the top of his mule. His legs weren’t long enough to get around and over the back of a horse, so rather than teeter to and fro like a child’s toy, he chose a narrow-backed mule that his stumpy body could manage. On top of the hairy little man’s head was a pointy-topped, wide-brimmed hat that had long ago flopped over in the middle.
“I have to admire King Mikahl’s mode of revenge. It’s… It’s…”
Brady started to say “effective,” but the moaning grunt that Hyden Hawk made from the bushes on the roadside caused him to finish with the word “brutal,” instead.
“I swear by the goddess that if I find out which one of you helped him,” Hyden called out breathlessly, “I will… I’ll… Ooh! Ah! Oooh! Blast you!” The wet sloppy sound that followed caused them all to make sour faces and urge the horses a bit further away.
They were somewhere between Jenkanta and the High Port – Old Port split. They had crossed the Doon River the day before and camped at an often used cave called the Midway. They were on their way to Old Port to catch their ship and should have been beyond the split by now, but Hyden Hawk’s condition forced them to stop every few miles so that he could relieve himself.
At first Hyden thought that he had eaten something that disagreed with him, but then he remembered Mikahl’s comment as they had said their goodbyes. “Take plenty of soil cloth,” the High King had joked with a stupid grin on his face. Hyden thought that he’d meant to take extra soil cloth for the sea voyage. He understood the jest all too well now. This was Mikahl’s revenge for Hyden displaying him naked before the Princess, and it was, as Brady put it, “brutal.”
“Should we let the wagons run ahead?” the commander of their customary twenty man escort of Blacksword soldiers suggested to Brady from a discreet distance. “Captain Trant will want to load the gear and make ready. He likes to keep his schedules.”
“Aye,” Hyden called from the roadside. “All of you go on. I’ll catch up to you.”
“Escort the wagons on to port, Sergeant,” Brady said. “I’ll escort Hyden Hawk.”
“I’m staying with Hyden too,” Phen said. His loyalty to Hyden, as well as his worry, showed plainly on his face.
The sergeant spurred his horse away and spoke to the wagon master. The procession began forming back up and eventually started away.
Oarly made no move to join them. As soon as the procession had moved on, he urged his mule toward the clump of shrubs where Hyden was now standing to lace up his leather britches.
“It was I who got ye,” Oarly confessed with a mixture of pride and shame. “By the order of the High King, mind ye.” He began rummaging through his pack and brought his stumpy arm out with a grin. “Here, eat it.” He offered Hyden a thumb sized dried vegetable that still had the stem attached to it. It was glossy black, like a polished stone. “It might burn a bit going in and out, but it’ll plug you up, if you know what I mean.”
Hyden studied the dwarf’s eyes, which were on a level with his own since Oarly was still seated on his mule. It was hard to read the dwarf’s expression because his big silly looking hat shadowed most of his face. Hyden saw
