There is still a lot of world out there, Kanin assured Khollo. The northlands, for one, and the great plains. There is much exploring left for us to do.
Not for a while, though, Khollo replied. We have to send the vertaga packing first.
Kanin grunted and continued eating. When he had finished, Khollo mounted up again.
Back to the West Bank? Kanin asked.
Khollo nodded. Yes. Tomorrow, there will be a battle, and I want to be ready for it.
Chapter 45
When they returned to the West Bank, they found Janis pacing back and forth across the roof of the keep, glancing anxiously skyward every now and then. Almost immediately, he caught sight of Kanin and Khollo and waved for them to join him. Kanin dove abruptly, causing Khollo to clutch at a spine to keep his seat. He had forgotten to tighten the flying straps after their hunt earlier in the morning.
Kanin pulled up beside the tower and hovered there, flapping his great wings periodically, so Janis and Khollo could talk.
“The catapults?” Janis asked immediately, shouting to be heard.
“Destroyed,” Khollo assured him.
“And you took no injury?”
“Nope.”
Janis nodded, satisfied. “Well done. Land in your usual place, at the north gate. And stay low until the battle starts. I don’t want the vertaga to see you here and realize you are defending the fortress.”
“Understood,” Khollo replied. “Anything else?”
“Not right now,” Janis shouted. “Go, rest. I’ll send a messenger for you if anything comes up.”
Kanin wheeled and descended rapidly to the warm, rocky patch by the north gate, settling onto his favorite spot gently. Khollo dismounted, groaning as his legs protested the hours they had spent flying that morning. Kanin folded his wings and lay on the ground, licking dried blood from his talons.
Do you think the battle will happen tomorrow? he asked idly.
Khollo shrugged. Depends when the vertaga get here I suppose. And that depends on how much we delayed them today with our raid.
I hope they get here soon, Kanin said eagerly. I want to do battle with those monsters again.
I thought you were the great peacekeeper, Khollo reminded him, amused.
We are not making war. We are defending the innocent from those that make war.
I suppose that makes sense, Khollo replied, sitting down beside Kanin. He removed the strap that held his quiver and one half of the Sen-teel, then leaned back against Kanin, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he opened one eye and looked down at his quiver, and the unstrung bow inside it.
You need more pointy sticks, Kanin observed, nosing at Khollo’s quiver.
The young warrior sighed and got to his feet. Yes, he agreed. And some beeswax for that bowstring. And the Sen-teel could do with some cleaning –
– and your armor is dirty, Kanin added critically.
So are some of your scales.
Which I am cleaning, Kanin pointed out, licking at his left foreleg.
Khollo shook his head and scooped his weapons up again. I’ll be back, he promised. If you hear an alarm, don’t go fighting vertaga without me.
Kanin made no reply, merely busied himself cleaning his scales. Khollo shrugged and made his way towards the north gate, headed for the smithy and the armory.
The number of guards at the north gate had been doubled, and every soldier Khollo saw was heavily armed. Every man wore full armor and carried a bow or crossbow in addition to his sword. Khollo looked back as he passed through the gate and saw extra quivers leaning against the stone below cunningly built arrow slits. A few soldiers patrolled the walkway above idly.
Khollo quickened his pace, ascending rapidly through the many levels of the underground fortress. There were fewer villagers out and about today. Perhaps they were all occupied boarding up windows and preparing for the battle in their own way, creating safe bunkers the vertaga would have difficulty breaching.
When at last Khollo climbed up into the original courtyard of the West Bank, he found soldiers everywhere. Squads were moving from place to place, on the walls, in the courtyard, on the steps of the keep, even a trio of squads manning the main gate. Four fires burned on the walkway above the gate, heating large cauldrons tended by cadets.
Khollo crossed the courtyard to the armory, and found it abandoned save for an older man he did not know, sitting at a low counter. Khollo waved the man back to his seat as he made to rise, then moved around the counter and into the storage area, scooping up two bundles of a dozen arrows and a small glob of beeswax.
“Good day, my lord,” the old man called as Khollo left. Khollo raised a hand briefly in reply, then proceeded to the smithy, on the opposite side of the courtyard.
The forges were going at full capacity when Khollo entered, creating an artificial summer season in the enclosed space. Tarrik and his two assistants were working independently at three different workstations, forging arrowheads, repairing tools and weapons. Tarrik quenched a freshly straightened sword blade with a deafening hiss and caught sight of Khollo.
“Khollo!” the smith boomed excitedly. “Good to see you, lad. How’s your dragon?”
“Kanin is doing well, thank you,” Khollo replied, grinning. “Janis keeping you busy?”
“A smith is always busy in war,” Tarrik observed with a grimace. “The number of repairs I’ve done today alone . . . and the battle will create even more work. What is it you need, Khollo? There’s nothing wrong with the Sen-teel is there?” he added anxiously.
“No, nothing at all,” Khollo assured the smith immediately. “I’m just looking for something to clean up my weapons and armor with. They’ve seen some use in
