Lord and struggled to become a man. Still, the image of his dream-his father, half-decayed and worm-ridden, telling him to save the Princess of Seaward, while Rosa screamed in terror in the background, was an unsettling thing to recall so suddenly.
Lady Trella, noticing Mikahl’s loss of color and the change in his demeanor, put the back of her fingers against his cheek. “You’re fevered, Mik,” she said in a motherly tone. “You should rest.”
“Aye,” he replied, unable to shake the morbid picture his mind was displaying. He had the strange feeling that he had been magicked in some way. Instinctually, he stepped away from his companions and pulled Ironspike a few inches out of its sheath. The sword’s radiant blue glow brightened the leaves of the fairy trees near him and as soon as the symphony of the sword’s magic was in his ears the eerie feeling left him, but not the memory of it.
A monk in black robes who had been silently meditating nearby at one of the many altar-like shrines that were spread around the gardens, came upon them with an excited look on his face. The man was plump and bald, save for a thin horseshoe of graying hair that ran around the back of his head from ear to ear. The circle of his wide open mouth could barely be seen through the silvery gray mustache and beard that ran down to the rope that held his robes closed at the waist.
“Look!” he gasped, pointing at the fairy trees nearby. “It’s miraculous!”
When they turned to see what the man was so excited about, they were treated to one of the rarest sights to ever been seen in the realm. Everywhere Ironspike’s magical light had touched the leaves of the fairy trees, crimson flowers were blooming before their eyes. They appeared like droplets of blood, and after a moment a bright yellow and red explosion of needle-like pistols formed at the center of each flower. As they bloomed further, the yellow and red combined into a flaming orange that made the trees look as if they were catching fire. A light breeze ruffled the flowering leaves, and the phenomenon began to spread across the entire copse to the other trees until soon the whole grove had bloomed.
Mikahl and the others were left speechless. Only Lord Gregory braved the silent awe to speak.
“M’lady,” he whispered softly into his wife’s ear. “It seems the local foliage has grown jealous of your beauty and is now trying to compete.”
Mikahl’s dream had been wiped completely from his mind by the sweet fruity smell of the blooms. At Lord Gregory’s words he glanced at Prince Raspaar and rolled his eyes. Both of them gave Lord Gregory a look and they eased away from the newly reunited lovers. The monk moving around the walkway was watching with shocked fascination. As the blooms matured he started to join them, but a look from the Prince sent him scurrying around to study elsewhere.
“There’s no doubt what they will be doing tonight,” the Prince said to Mikahl with a laugh. “I do believe that, if he hadn’t had his arms around her, she would have melted into the earth.”
“He does have a way of speaking to her, doesn’t he?” Mikahl said. “Even the most prudent of maidens couldn’t have resisted a compliment like that.”
“As you mainlanders always seem to say,” the Prince said in agreement. “Aye.”
News of the High King’s arrival at the Westland settlement on the island of Salazar traveled swiftly. When the Seawander anchored in the great port of Sala, the Harbor Master sent word to Captain Trant immediately. Hyden was pleased to hear that Mikahl was just a short sail away, visiting the island of Salaya. He, Oarly, and Trant traveled by carriage to the Westland settlement called Balton while Deck Master Biggs went about finding a ship to haul the dragon’s hoard.
Hyden Hawk needed Mikahl’s advice, and he had to let his friend know what sort of damage he had done by letting the black dragon fall under the control of Queen Shaella’s wizard. He didn’t relish telling Mikahl the news. Already Mikahl was miffed at him for not killing Shaella when he’d had the chance. Shaella had truly loved Hyden’s brother Gerard and for that reason he had foolishly let her live. Now his mistake might cost Phen his life. There was no guessing how much death and destruction would fall on his shoulders for letting the Silver Skull and the black dragon slip into the bitch’s hands. He was in such a state that it was all he could do to keep from taking the first ship to Westland to find out what happened to Phen and kill Shaella himself. The urge to do something, anything, to help right the wrong was overwhelming. This feeling was only eclipsed by his desire to save Phen.
Oarly insisted that the High King and the Lion Lord be included in the planning of any attempt to go into the Dragon Queen’s domain, and Captain Trant’s conclusion that if Phen wasn’t dead already then it was unlikely that they would kill him now, helped Hyden keep his cool.
They’d sent word to Mikahl and Lord Gregory by swifter hawk and Mikahl was to return on the morrow from Salaya. Then they would all sit down and figure out what to do. The fact that Lord Gregory was alive and had spent the whole winter among Hyden’s clan folk hovered in the back of his mind as well. He hadn’t spoken to, or even sent word to, his people since he had set off into the Giant Mountains what seemed like a lifetime ago. He decided that, as soon as he’d saved Phen and retrieved Gerard’s ring from the Nethers, he would go home for a while.
Oarly was glad Hyden was remaining semi-clearheaded about the matter. He was on the cusp of finding something in Phen’s translation that was just out of reach. He had seen something happen in the dragon’s treasure cavern that hadn’t seemed possible until Phen made the strange statement about finding something invisible in his work. Just before the dragon had liquefied the seamen, Oarly had seen Phen huddle behind an artifact and disappear. The dwarf had dismissed it as being a trick of the eye caused by the rush of fear when the dragon came in on them, but now he felt that he might have been seeing true. As they waited for Mikahl to return to the Lost Lion Inn, and enjoyed the kind hospitality of the mother-to-be who was running the place, Oarly was delving deeper into Phen’s books trying to figure out the conundrum.
The tavern had long ago emptied of custom, yet Hyden and the dwarf still sat at the bar. Uncharacteristically, Oarly refused to do more than sip at a goblet of mulled wine. Beside him, Hyden sat quietly talking with the innkeeper, Zasha, about Mikahl’s youth.
“He was a troublesome cuss,” she said with a grin at the memory. “We all were. We caused a lot of silver hairs to grow in our time, I assure you.”
“If I wasn’t in such a foul mood, I would be prying you for an edge of information to use against him in the next prank I play.” Hyden took a long sip from his goblet. “As it is, I feel like I’ll never be able to jest again.”
“Whoever she was, she couldn’t have been all that.”
“Nay, Zash,” Hyden smiled and shook his head. “It’s death that has me feeling so low. Death, and the possibility of more of it.”
“Death is just part of life,” she said with an innkeeper’s practiced neutrality. After an uneasy glance at the big hawkling eyeing her from Hyden’s shoulder she asked, “Is there anything I can get for your feathered friend, Sir Hyden Hawk?”
“Please Zash, it’s Hyden, just plain Hyden.” The slur in his voice revealed that he was more than just a little drunk. “A few strips of red meat, and Talon here will love you for life. He’s had enough fish to last an eternity.”
Zasha wasn’t sure she wanted the fierce looking predator bird to love her forever, but she disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a platter of meat strips. Talon leapt to the bar with a flutter and began to consume them vigorously.
The sound of the door closing behind Hyden brought a huge smile to Zasha’s face. She wobbled her pregnant self around the bar and hurried to greet a young man who looked to have spent a good deal of time laboring at some physical form of work.
“I thought you’d never return,” she said as she nearly leapt into his arms. “Oh, Wyndall, so much has happened. Lord Gregory has returned, and High King Mikahl, and look.” She pointed to the back of Oarly at the bar, who absently scratched at the crack of his wide, partially exposed buttocks. She had to stifle a laugh. “There’s a dwarf here at the Lost Lion,” she giggled.
“And the great wizard Sir Hyden and his hawk from the battle of Xwarda as well,” Wyndall added with a respectful grin. “After we offloaded in Seaward, we stopped at Weir in Highwander to search for more ore to purchase. Rumors of Sir Hyden and King Mikahl’s deeds are often spoken of over cups in those taverns. I think there’s even a song or two about them.”
Just then Hyden turned and fell from the stool into a crumpled heap on the floor. Oarly gave him a glance and returned to his reading. Talon peered down from his plate, but soon went back to his meal.
“He’s drunk,” Zasha said. “He just lost a few dear friends.”
