Phoenix Destiny

Sixteen

Jaron sat outside his tent, strumming his lute while he waited for the time he would meet Dak in the forest. As usual, he was the first one awake and watched the suns slowly rise. The only other soul awake was Gambler. The stallion quietly munched on a flake of hay, unbothered by the dreams that haunted Jaron’s nights with increasing frequency. They had to mean something.

As the soldiers stirred, a messenger galloped into the camp. Jaron stopped strumming as the man halted outside the General’s pavilion. Even Gambler seemed to take note. Perhaps the equine sensed something was amiss.

The General emerged from his tent as the messenger dismounted from the exhausted horse. Dorrall stood off to the side, watching with more interest than Jaron thought was usual for him. Jaron’s gaze narrowed when he recognized the soldier. It wasn’t like Dorrall to be up early. Usually, he was one of the last soldiers to rise.

“General, King Medgar calls for your aid. Rebels from the north have staged an uprising,” the messenger said as the General read the notice.

Nodding to his captains gathered on either side of him, the General said, “King Medgar has promised a great reward for our service. Tell the men to saddle up. Half ride ahead with me, the rest to Garwood. Move out!”

“Everyone, we’re moving out!” the captains dispersed to gather their ranks.

The camp was a flurry of activity as soldiers hurriedly packed and arranged their gear. Tents were taken down, rolled up and tossed in a pile to be loaded on the wagons. Once Jaron had his own gear packed and arranged on Gambler’s back, he helped the others.

Several ranks composing of half the company formed up and prepared to ride. Jaron didn’t know how they determined which would follow the General, but there never seemed to be any disputes over it. This time, Dak and Dorrall’s companies were both included. Jaron watched them leave and for some reason wished he was going with them.

When the camp was loaded into the back of the wagons, they were finally ready to follow. The pace of the camp was steady, but slow. Jaron worried about Ivy. He hoped the dragon was able to follow their trail. There was no time to search for her, and he didn’t dare try to call for her.

After several days of travel, they still hadn’t caught up with the advance party with the wagons slowing down their progress. Jaron watched the skies, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ivy. He hoped she was doing all right. The little dragon was an accomplished hunter, so she should do well on her own.

The skies were overcast when they finally reached their destination. Under the threat of rain, they pitched camp on the edge of Manlea’s borders. They finished just as the first drops fell. Jaron did not entertain and no one seemed to mind.

He stretched out inside his tent, listening to the steady rhythm of falling water. Underneath the relaxing din, he imagined he heard the clashing of swords. He wasn’t sure where the battle was, but he doubted they were close enough to truly be able to hear it.

The overnight rain gave rise to a gray dawn. Gambler snorted, shedding sprays of water as he shook himself. Jaron scanned the camp and the milling soldiers. They were up earlier than usual and seemed to be on edge. The stallion whinnied, sensing the air was thick with tension. Jaron couldn’t help but feel something was wrong.

These were trained mercenaries. An uprising of farmers wasn’t a challenge to them. The battle should have been short.

Several seemed to have expected the advance party to be waiting for them with their reward. If this was more than an uprising, the General should have called for reinforcements. Yet there they remained without direction or orders. Even the captains didn’t seem sure what they should do now that they had set up the new camp. Jaron thought they should organize some sort of distraction to keep them busy, training drills at the very least.

Two days after arriving at the new camp, Jaron woke to the sight of Gambler’s velvet nose and the scent of the stallion’s warm, lavender breath. He often wondered why the stallion’s breath was so sweet-smelling, but now he was just surprised the equine was in his tent at all.

“Gambler,” Jaron shoved the muzzle away. “What is it?”

The stallion held its bridle in its teeth, dangling it over its master’s head. Jaron stared at the gray horse as its ears twitched and nostrils flared. Its eyes were dark but almost seemed to shine.

“You want to go for a ride?” he asked after a moment.

The stallion grunted. Jaron shook his head, then frowned. Had the horse ever begged for a ride before? He couldn’t recall. Why now? Perhaps the equine was as bored as the rest of the camp?

If he knew anything, it was always to trust his instincts. After a moment, he stood. Gambler obligingly backed out of the tent. Jaron dressed then followed.

It was still dark, not even false dawn. The stallion stood, still holding its bridle in its mouth. Jaron snatched it from the patient beast and heard a chirp. He looked over Gambler’s shoulder to see Ivy perched on the horse’s back, gazing back at him. She perched with her claws withdrawn to avoid piercing the stallion’s hide and kept her wings spread wide as she balanced there.

The dragon was a welcome sight. She looked healthy and even seemed to have grown. Living feral suited her. Still, he was glad she had chosen to return. Jaron hadn’t realized how much he missed her. She chirped and seemed quite pleased with herself for reaching the camp on her own.

“It’s good to see you,” Jaron smiled, scratching the dragon’s chin. “I didn’t think you’d be able to find us after the rain.”

The dragon purred. Her glinting eyes seemed to chastise him for his lack of faith. Then she looked to the western horizon and whistled. Gambler snorted and Jaron realized it was looking in the same direction. What exactly did the animals sense?

“All right, I can take a hint,” Jaron finally said. “Let’s go.”

Jaron slipped the bridle onto the stallion’s head, then retrieved the saddle and blanket from the tent. Ivy leapt into the air as Jaron saddled the equine. He pulled the girth tight before mounting. Gambler stood as Jaron slipped on his leather glove before presenting his arm to Ivy. The dragon landed on the perch, extending her claws for a secure grip.

Jaron picked up his reins with his free hand and signaled the stallion forward. Gambler eagerly weaved through camp with an energetic gait. Once they made it past the last of the tents, the equine broke into a lope.

Ivy’s claws extended to their full length and sunk into the leather glove until Jaron could feel them pressing close to his skin. Her tail coiled around his arm for added security as the stallion’s long strides ate up the ground. Gambler’s gait quickened to a gallop, and they practically flew across the open terrain as the first of the suns rose triumphantly into the air.

Cresting a rise, Jaron pulled the stallion to a halt. The stallion snorted as its ears flicked forward. He was surprised to note it was already nearing midday. Gambler’s stamina never ceased to amaze him, and he had yet to meet another equine with half as much. Jaron eyed the mountainous northern horizon as dust and smoke rose into the sky. He could just make out the echoes of battle: clashing swords and the cries of men.

The battle was much closer than he guessed. His mind flashed back to the night they first arrived at the camp. Perhaps, the noises he thought he heard hadn’t been his imagination after all. Gambler snorted, tugging on his reins. Animal senses were far keener than his own. Maybe this was why the equine had been on edge.

“All right, Ivy,” Jaron said. “Time to show me just how much you’ve learned.”

He threw the dragon into the air. Ivy quickly rose into the sky with a squawk. Jaron watched the dragon expand its circular flight pattern before signaling Gambler to move onward. The stallion started forward again, this time at a collected jog.

Ivy screeched. Jaron checked the stallion so hard that Gambler half-reared. Returning to all fours, the equine gave a disgruntled toss of the head. Patting its shoulder in apology, Jaron watched the dragon circle and fly west. Narrowing his eyes, he turned Gambler and followed the dragon.

Ahead, Ivy swooped. Jaron slowed the stallion. Gambler jogged up a shallow slope and halted at the point it dropped off. He held out an arm and stared at a military camp below as Ivy landed.

“An encampment?” Jaron said aloud. He studied the camp: horses, weapons, fully armored knights, some crudely outfitted workers. In the center of the camp, Jaron saw a large pavilion. A standard indicated it was Medgar’s troops.

“Why are they here and not fighting?” Jaron wondered aloud.

The mercenary company were not strangers to this particular kingdom. As far as Jaron could discern, they didn’t keep a large force, which was why they leaned on the independent company, not that he had the chance to count their actual force. Still, this camp seemed far too large.

Gambler snorted. Ivy hissed.

“Let’s see for ourselves.”

Jaron sent the dragon to the sky and calmly turned the stallion to find a safe path into the camp. Gambler easily negotiated the steep descent and halted at the camp’s boundaries. Jaron dismounted and led the equine into it.

Now that he was closer, he saw only a handful of knights. Most of the men seemed to be farmers and even a few haggard-looking drunks. Blacksmiths forged swords and made crude arrows that were neither straight nor properly fletched and the bows were loosely strung.

“Poorly made weapons, a motley gathering. All the hallmarks of a hastily conscripted army, wouldn‘t you say?” Jaron whispered to the horse. “They could be mustering to aid the battle.”

Gambler butted him. Jaron gave the stallion a comforting pat, but its attention was elsewhere, looking at an ill-bred gelding standing in front of the pavilion. The dark beast’s ears were too long, and its build was stocky and unrefined.

“Don’t worry about that old—Dorrall’s horse?” Jaron’s gaze narrowed.

Just what was going on?