Throne of Dragons

“Lenore, where is she? Where is she?” he demanded.

“They took her,” the servant said. “They killed the guards, and they took us, and they…” The pause told Godwin everything he needed to know. “They let some of us go, they wanted us to tell you.”

“And Lenore?” Godwin asked. “What about my daughter?”

“They still have her,” the young woman said. “They said they were going to take her south, over the bridge. They’re going to give her to King Ravin.”

In that moment, nothing else mattered; not his son’s overreactions, not his son-to-be’s demands. All that mattered was the thought that another of his daughters was in danger, and this time, he wasn’t going to fail her, not like he had with Nerra.

“Summon my knights!” he called out. “Send messages to the Knights of the Spur. Summon my guards. I want every man we have gathered together! Why are you standing there? Move!”

Around him, guards and servants broke into motion, some running to send messages, some hurrying to go get weapons. For his part, Godwin stalked from the hall, heading through the castle, not caring how many followed him. He all but ran down a spiral stair, feet rattling off the well-worn stone. He passed along tapestry-lined corridors, along paths that had been worn deep into the tiled floors by generations of feet. He headed down to the armory, where a huge door of solid brass stood between the world and the weapons that the castle held, the finest work that the House of Weapons had. The guards there stepped aside to let him pass.

His armor sat on its stand, breastplate dulled with age, greaves worked with interlocking swirls. Ordinarily, Godwin would have waited for a page to help him, but now he threw it on, fastening buckles, tying stays. He knew he should be making his way to the queen’s chambers, going to tell her that another of her daughters was in danger. Right then, Godwin could have faced a thousand armies, but he couldn’t face doing that.

What he was about to face was bad enough. Lenore was in danger, had probably faced horrors that were almost beyond imagining. Even with all his armies, Godwin didn’t know if they would be in time to retrieve her, or what foes they would face in the attempt. All he knew was that he couldn’t face losing another daughter, not now.

“I will get her back,” he said aloud. “Whatever it takes, I will get my daughter back.”

CHAPTER THREE

Rodry was furious, his anger bubbling up in him the way lava might have bubbled in one of the volcanoes of the far north, hinting at worse to come. Servants rushed past him, and Rodry had to move himself carefully out of their path; he wasn’t like his brother Vars, wasn’t the kind of man who would take his frustrations out on another.

Frustrations? That wasn’t the right word when his father had just humiliated him for doing something that he should have done in the first place.

A group of his friends were approaching now, and Rodry waited for them. None of them were yet the knights they wanted to be, but at least he could depend on them to support him.

“Your father seems angry,” one of his friends, Kay, said. He sounded nervous about the whole thing.

“You’re just nervous because you’re the one who escorted the ambassador down to the border,” Mautlice said. He was the son of an earl, always good to have on a hunt, and strong with it.

“I won’t let him do anything to hurt all of you,” Rodry said. “I’ve already told him that it was down to me alone.”

“There was no need,” Seris said. He was plump and dressed in layers of velvet, always quick with a quip, but just as quick to back Rodry up.

“I appreciate that,” Rodry said. “I have two brothers who will happily dance around what they really want to say. I value people who say what they feel.”

“You seem pretty angry about all this,” Kay said.

That wasn’t a big enough word for what Rodry was feeling now. Humiliated, maybe. Frustrated that he couldn’t seem to do the right thing. Frustrated with his father, who had already sent Nerra away, who seemed to be angry with him even though he’d done the only honorable thing when it came to the ambassador, and who seemed to be determined to pander to Finnal and his family, in spite of the rumors about him.

There were days when Rodry was convinced that he would never understand politics. Why should he have to, though? A man should do the right thing, the honorable thing, and trust that those around him would do the same. He should be strong enough to protect his friends and strike down evil. Everything else was… was just playing games.

He headed in the direction of his rooms, through the maze of corridors that filled the castle, the others following in his wake. They headed up along a gallery of stained windows, each twisting the light in a different way, then through a broad receiving room filled with deep oak furniture. Rodry shoved a table aside and kept moving.

Around him, the castle was abuzz, but Rodry was angry enough to ignore that. It was probably just something to do with the wedding. Ever since his father had sent the wedding harvest off early, the castle had been scrambling to keep up.

Rodry made it to his rooms. They were more starkly functional than those of his brothers, with trunks and chests along one wall. His armor stood on a stand, spotlessly clean, cared for with all the precision he’d learned among the Knights of the Spur.

Thoughts of the order brought with it thoughts of Erin, since Commander Harr had sent messages to let the court know where she was. Rodry should have guessed that his little sister would head out to the Spur eventually, but he hadn’t, simply because it wasn’t the kind of thing that girls did.

Perhaps he should be the one to go out there and fetch her back. As a Knight of the Spur, he had the right to enter their fortress home. As Erin’s half-brother, he might be able to talk her around, or at least drag her back. At the same time though, Rodry was glad that at least one member of his family could do as they wished.

“We’ll go to the House of Weapons,” he said to the others. “Spend some time in the training rings there.”

“Again?” Kay said. “I’d rather be hunting.”

“You all say that you want to be knights someday,” Rodry said. “Well, for that, you need to be able to fight better. Maybe enough lessons with Swordmaster Wendros and you’ll even beat me.”

That would take a lot of lessons, but there was no reason not to give them some hope.

“Come on,” he said. “It will impress that maid of my sister’s you seem to be so sweet on.”

“Do you think so?” Kay asked.

“Well, he needs something to impress her,” Seris said, and the others laughed.

The group of them felt as though it was about to fall into all the familiar joking and camaraderie, not quite that of the real knights Rodry spent time with, but close enough for now, and almost enough to keep his anger in check.

Then a servant came running in.

“Your highness,” the man said. “I’ve been sent to find you. It’s about Princess Lenore.”

Instantly, Rodry spun toward the man. “What about her? What’s wrong?”

Just the servant’s tone said that something was, and whatever it was, it was bad.

“She’s been attacked,” the servant said. “King Ravin’s people are supposed to be taking her south toward one the bridges. The king is gathering all the knights. He has sent messages to the Spur.”

“Gathering knights?” Rodry said, springing toward the stand where his armor lay. “And how long will that take?”

Too long, that was the obvious answer. His father was a king, which meant that he would move slowly, gathering assent, gathering troops. Always preparing, never acting. Like with the ambassador.

“My father will waste time,” Rodry said. “He will let them get away, and if they make it south, he’ll say that my sister is lost.” He looked over to the servant. “How was Lenore even attacked? Where were Vars and his men?”

“I… no one knows for sure, your highness,” the servant said.

Meaning that Vars hadn’t been there when he should have been. Anger flashed through Rodry at that, but also guilt. He should have argued more when his father sent Vars to accompany Lenore, should have insisted on guarding her himself. He should have been there.

Well, he would be now. Rodry looked around at his friends. They were not the Knights of the Spur, but they had been on enough hunts, trained with weapons enough times. They were here, and they were all he had.

“Seris, find the others, as many as you can, and as quickly. Tell them what has happened, and tell them that I need them. Mautlice, get us horses waiting. Bribe the stable hands if you have to. Kay, get together the weapons.”

“We’re joining your father’s forces?” Kay asked.

Rodry couldn’t contain his anger then. He struck the wall beside him, and the others flinched back.

“My father won’t be fast enough!” he shouted. “A small group can move faster. No, I’m doing this myself. I’m going to go and get my sister back, and get her safe. Kay, if that girl you like is one of her servants, she’ll be in danger too. Don’t you want to help?”