Already Spyra had sent men after the two in the north. He was in Southport, and Curve was only a day and a half away. He was going there himself. Since Salaphel was under Westland jurisdiction, he didn’t feel the need to take a military detachment with him, but he did bring a pair of his liege men to aid him if they were forced to give chase.
The superintendent at the Salaphel lumber tract welcomed Lord Spyra into a big log structure and generously offered his table to him and his men. Spyra indicated for his men to sit and did so himself. The table was long enough to seat forty men, and the torchlit room was open. The high, log-raftered ceiling was spacious but heavy with pitch smoke from the torches on the walls. No one knew why Spyra was there, so there was no need for posturing or trying to conceal his motives. The poor superintendent was clearly worried that he had done something wrong, or maybe he thought one of his men was guilty of a crime. Often the men wanted by one city guard or another for illegal acts ended up working the mills. Rarely did a lord come to visit, and never for social reasons. Lord Ellrich used to frequent the islands in the spring to enjoy the abundance of grottel that were rousted out of their forest nests as the undergrowth was cleared out before harvest. The huge lord could eat a dozen of them in a single sitting. The superintendent was hoping that a table full of the fat, meaty creatures would keep him in Lord Spyra’s good graces.
“Sir,” Spyra said, trying to use a comforting tone. “Could you invite a certain worker of yours to dinner?”
“They come and go, my lord,” the superintendent said guardedly. “Is this man in some sort of trouble?”
“Not in the way you might think. He has committed no crime. As a matter of fact, I would just like to ask him a few questions.”
“Give me his name, my lord, and I will make sure he is at the table this eve.” The superintendent scratched his chin curiously. “You’re sure he's not a wanted man?”
“No,” Spyra answered. “Believe me, after the man hears what I have to say, he will be thankful I spoke with him.”
The superintendent became a little nervous after Spyra gave him the name, but he repeated it to an assistant and told him which foreman the man worked under before sending him off to fetch him. Spyra sent his two men with the superintendent’s assistant just as a precaution. The superintendent disappeared into the kitchen and conferred with his cooks about the night’s meal, then returned and took a seat across from Lord Spyra.
“Can you tell me what this is about?” the superintendent asked.
Spyra saw no harm in telling the man, even though he felt foolish speaking of such things as wizards, spells, and living dead men.
“Some Westland men, who were fighting under King Glendar, sailed out of O’Dakahn. For whatever reason, they’ve become scattered about the realm. No doubt they believe themselves to be thought of as Westland deserters.” Spyra saw the superintendent swallow hard and wondered why the man was getting so worried. “Those men actually did the right thing by deserting Glendar. High King Mikahl wishes to thank them.”
“So they’re not in trouble, these men?”
“Not at all.” Spyra felt that he might just have found more than he’d hoped to. “In fact, the High King has declared that all they have to do is swear fealty to him to be fully absolved of the deed, but…”
“I knew there was a ‘but’. There’s always more to it,” the superintendent said. “What more is there? A penance for the Crown of a year’s labor, or a hefty fine to fatten the coffers?”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Lord Spyra snapped. He was a big, formidable man who had spent his whole life in the Highwander military. He wasn’t used to being questioned, and frankly didn’t like it very much. He took a few moments and tried to remember the fact that he was a lord now and not a general. “Let me finish next time, before you go running off at the mouth, man.” He pierced the superintendent with his eyes and went on. “Those men were bespelled. All of them. The men on those ships with Glendar won’t die, even when they should.” Spyra stood and started pacing with his hands clasped behind his back. The idea of the undead, and the man before him, had him on the verge of anger. “Those who still have a beating heart can be saved from the horrible fate that awaits them. Many of them have already met a terrible end.”
“My lord.” The superintendent’s relief was palpable. “I apologize for interrupting you. We have seen the effects you speak of out here. Several, perhaps thirty, of our men were on those ships. There were more, but we had to burn them after they started rotting away. Only after their bones were charred to ash did they stay dead.”
“Well then, we have just made a great step to fulfilling the High King’s orders,” Lord Spyra said with a smile that showed he was holding no ill will, and that his irritation had passed. “I was ordered to question these men and compile a list of all who were on those ships. I have to find out who was burned and who else is missing, but a wizard named Sholt will come and do whatever it is he does to remove the enchantment Pael put on them. They can kneel to me and say the words of fealty to King Mikahl after dinner. That will make them free men again.”
“That will be good for them, my lord,” the superintendent said, “but I will lose more than a few of them when they learn that they are free to go home and such.” He stood and wiped his brow. “It’s good to know we wasn’t in the wrong by burning those that wouldn’t stay dead either.” He looked up, his eyes focusing on something far beyond the roof of the cabin. “It wasn’t easy.”
It took Spyra a moment to realize that the man was praying. He waited until the prayer was done before offering a suggestion.
“Why don’t you have them all rounded up after dinner. Tell them what it’s all about. I have to ask them who else was on those ships and then go track those men down.”
Later that evening, thirty-two men were absolved of their desertion. By morning, Lord Spyra’s list had grown to more than a hundred names, only eighteen of whom were known to be dead. His next stop was going to be a little trickier. More than half the men on the new list were working out of the New Westland settlement on the Isle of Salazar, where those lords and merchants who had escaped the Dragon Queen had settled. Most of them were working aboard ships. Finding them all wasn’t going to be easy.
Spyra decided that he had to go back to Southport and take a ship to Salazar from there. For this trek he would need at least a handful of men. Salazar wasn’t part of Westland, or even under the rule of High King Mikahl. Finding cooperation there wasn’t guaranteed.
He wanted to go back to Southport anyway. He figured he should at least grant the two skeletons being held there their last wishes. He didn’t relish the idea of it, but once that was done he would separate their skulls and end them.
With an anguished wail and a torrent of tears, Queen Rosa said goodbye to Phen and the others. They were standing in the starlit courtyard outside the red brick castle. The queen was only emotional over Phen, though. It amazed King Mikahl how much she cared for the boy. The small comfort he gave her while she was a prisoner of the Dragon Queen had bonded them for life.
Lady Trella wasn’t much better with her goodbyes. She didn’t wail and moan, but she wouldn’t let go of Lord Gregory for a long time.
“I’m only going to be gone for a few weeks, my love,” he told her.
“You told me that once before and I spent an entire year thinking you were dead.”
“Aye.” He squeezed her closer to him. “That won’t happen again. If it wasn’t for the Skyler Clan, I would never have been able to come and find you, though. I owe them a great deal.” He kissed her lips. “You’re welcome to come along.”
“No, Rosa needs me to help her prepare for Westland, and there are huge lists of things that she has to handle when she gets there. She doesn’t know our customs. Besides that, the skeeks destroyed Lake Bottom, and I’m sure Lady Able needs help at Lakeside.”
“I’ll be back soon, my love,” he told her again. “There and back again, I swear it. I’ll only stay for a few days.”
“What is this? No tears or hugs or kisses for me?” Oarly asked the High King with a smirk on his face.
“Master Oarly, I promise you that when you return from this adventure you will be awarded land, title, and a healthy chest for all you’ve given up for this realm.” Mikahl grinned broadly. “But if you want a kiss, you’d better find it elsewhere.”
“I’d rather kiss your horse than you, King Mikahl. But I’d rather kiss a bottle of brandy than either of
