“So I stood, when I saw my chance…and I ran like so many others. There were many that I saw escaping into the woods. Some were alone, others in groups. They did not know where they were or where they were going. They only wanted to survive.” He paused for thought. “That is a primitive instinct. An instinct that drives a man to places he never knew existed, places deep inside himself that require he do terrible things. When his survival is at stake, boundaries do not exist. And now here we are, in a world without boundaries. With northmen in the south and southmen in the north, all willing to do anything to live.
“Chaos, Lythian. A world of brutality and blood and bile. Even during my short days alone, I wondered what I would do, when my hunger grew too severe. Would I kill a man for a piece of bread? Would I steal the last rations from a child? Sooner or later, far too many of us will have to confront those sorts of questions. To steal another man’s food and let him starve, or continue to starve yourself. To kill or be killed. To take one of the few spots left for the living, because believe me, they will grow scarce. For every ten men alive right now, perhaps only three or four will be alive within a year. In five years, one. In ten…” He shook his head. “Man will become a dying breed, and shrink to the edges of the world. That is what I saw in those woods, Lythian. Men running scared of monsters, with a new terror around every turn.”
A battleground, Lythian thought. A world where only the strong survive. He took a moment to digest the man’s tale, then put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Yet you returned, Sa’har. As have many others here.” He looked across the pen. “They came back through fear, and in the hope of being returned home to their own lands. What of you, my friend? Is it fear that drove you here?”
“Fear? Oh, fear does not cover it, Lythian. It is something beyond fear that demanded I return. But not for myself, no. It is a deep and unsettling dread for what this world will become. What it is already becoming. Oh, as I wandered those woods I found my purpose. To help, in whatever way I can. As Sir Pagaloth has joined you, Lythian Lindar, as will I. I am yours to deploy as you see fit.” Some life returned to his eyes, even as he said it, as though a weight was lifted from his shoulders. As though he was giving himself a reason to live.
Lythian’s hand was still on the man’s narrow shoulder. He squeezed it and withdrew. “I gladly accept, Sa’har Nakaan. What do you propose?”
The man’s gaze moved eastward once more. Beyond the river lay woods of beech and birch, ash and alder, hawthorn and horse chestnut, spread over a vast land bustling with hills and valleys, rivers and lakes, flowering fields and farmlands. “There are thousands of my people scattered across these lands. Men who ran in fear of Drulgar and want no part in Eldur’s war. I will help to gather them, unite them, bring us all together in common cause. If left to wander they will be reduced to their basest instincts in order to survive. They will steal, plunder, kill, and bring further chaos to these lands. That cannot be allowed.”
Lythian could not agree more. “A shepherd to a scattered flock. I feel the role would suit you well. People know you, and trust you, Sa’har. Who better to be a beacon of hope for these lost men?”
Across the pen, the voice of Sir Hadros was bellowing out as he mustered the prisoners to their work. Some were being directed at wagons, to go out and collect their dead. Others were being handed spades and shovels to help with the expansion of the pen, filling the ditch and digging a new one. The hedge knight had some of the Vandarians helping as well, working alongside the southerners.
“A sign of things to come, I hope,” Lythian said, observing. “All of us working together.”
“We will need to,” agreed Sa’har. “Though it will not be easy to convince everyone. Some animosities are delved too deep, Lythian. Look at their eyes. Even now you can see the hate.”
Lythian had seen that plenty. “Hate is sometimes just a symptom of fear, Sa’har. Fear of an enemy you do not understand, whose ways are strange to you. But when these men stand shoulder to shoulder they will realise that is all they are. Men. Fighting for the same end.”
“Then it would be wise for us to join in this endeavour, yes? To show a united front?”
“That is what I am thinking,” Lythian agreed. “I will send you out with a strong cohort; some of these prisoners, and some of my own men. If there’s anyone you know or trust here, by all means use them. And include some soldiers from the empire as well. We have a Lumaran Starrider here, I know, and a Piseki Sunrider. And some paladin knights from Aramatia. Gather a company to represent all nations, and I’ll return later on to inspect them.”
Sa’har took the order on without question. “I will see it done. But I wonder…would you come with us, Lythian?”
Much as he might like to, he sensed Amron would prefer he stay. “I will speak to the king, Sa’har.” He checked the position of the sun. “I have a council meeting with him in a few moments.”
“Then I will not keep you further. And it seems I have work to do.”
Lythian nodded. “Until later, then.” He gestured to Sir Pagaloth to accompany him, and the two of them stepped away. “Sir Hadros. On me,” Lythian called, as they went.
The hedge knight turned, saw them coming, and bustled over to join them, breath puffing in the cold morning air. “Captain.”
“I have a new duty for you.”
“Oh? If it gets me closer to one of those cloaks…”
“It does. I want you to join Skymaster Nakaan in rounding up the deserters, from both sides, ours and theirs. I’ve asked him to assemble a suitable retinue to accompany him. You will lead the northern faction.”
The man looked rather less than pleased with the task. “You want me to babysit a bunch of southerners?”
“They don’t need babysitting, Sir Hadros. These will be experienced men.”
“Aye, that’s what concerns me. Experienced men are dangerous men.”
“You’re a Bladeborn knight. These are men without their mounts. A Skymaster without a dragon, Sunriders and Starriders without their wolves and cats. You’ll have nothing to fear from them.”
“Will they be armed?”
Lythian nodded.
“Then I’ll have something to fear.” Sir Hadros pointed at one of the dead dragons they’d walked past before. “Any man with a spear can kill a dragon. And any man with a length of steel can kill a Bladeborn knight. Not saying I don’t trust them, my lord, but a couple of days ago we were all killing each other. Won’t take much to spark violence between us.”
“These are your lands, Sir Hadros. You’re armoured in godsteel plate and mail, and hold a godsteel broadsword. You’ll have soldiers of your own. If violence is sparked off, I should think you will come out the better. But it won’t come to that. Not if we select the right men.”
“And who’ll be doing the choosing?”
“I will. Though if you are aware of any good honest men who hold no grudges, and are happy to assist, let me know. I will be back later. Get to it.”
He turned and stepped away, Sir Pagaloth marching at his side, dressed in leathers and wool and a shirt of rusty ringmail. In such garb he looked almost northern, though the dusky skin and dark almond eyes were enough to out his heritage. “I think it’s time that you were restored to your proper regalia,” Lythian said to him. “Many dragonknights were slain during the battle, and we have plenty of armour to go around. And dragonsteel blades as well. I know you have missed yours, since those hunters took it from you.”
“I gave the blade up willingly, Captain. For passage.”
“No. They took it from you, Pagaloth. You must stop making excuses for all the wrongs that are done to you. You have paid your penance now.” Lythian was weary of telling him that, but felt obliged to do so all the same. “Now, I want you to find armour that fits you, choose a blade to your liking, and return out here to help Sa’har in his task. When he leaves, I want you to go with him, to act as an intermediary. Is this a duty you are willing to perform for me?”
The man dipped his chin, still bearing marks and scars from when his beard had been so savagely cut at Runnyhall. “If it is your command, Captain.”
“It is. And I know you have felt idle here, since we arrived. This will give you something to contribute.” The dragonknight had not taken part in the battle, at his own request, preferring not to kill his own countrymen. Naturally, it poked at his pride to be standing on the sidelines, as men fought and died beyond the city walls.
They walked on for a few moments, passing the corpse of one of the dead dragons from earlier. Lythian paused to look at it, wondering about something that had long tickled at his mind. “Tell me, Pagaloth. Is it possible to bond a dragon, without the use of the Bondstone?”
The dragonknight shook his head. “Not a full soul-bonding. But there have been instances in the past of rogue dragonriders, those who did not pass the trials at the Nest, and instead journeyed to the Wings, to tame the wild dragons there. It is not the same strength of union…more similar to how a man bonds a horse. But in those terms, yes, it is possible.” He looked over. “Why do you ask?”
“Just something Sir Hadros said earlier. Catch a few. Kill a few. I wonder…what if we did less of the killing, and more of the catching? If chained and caged, might that allow time for a man to tame the beast? To develop enough trust so he might ride it?”
“In theory,” the dragonknight confirmed. “He would need to be Fireborn, however, and brave. Any man who tries must be willing to risk his life, Lythian.”
