Roland of the High Crags - Books 1-3

Chapter 3-2

The upper end of the valley was guarded by two massive stone keeps as the first line of defense, each housing fifty Great Wings and their riders, with each keep carved out of giant slabs of native stone which towered over the valley floor. Day and night, twenty or more Great Wings floated over the upper end of the valley on patrol, ever alert for dragon and Winged Beastie sorties. The Great Wings were tested regularly, for young dragons, freshly matriculated through the dragon rituals of becoming adults and warriors—along with their newly acquired Winged Beasties—were required to do combat in the air above the valley against human opponents.

The third line of defense was the massive walls and many towers of the city of Odar’s Lair. It was the capital of King Olaf’s kingdom and a great bastion of strength. The city had three sets of walls, with the inner wall being the highest and strongest. The outer wall was short and thick, made of solid stone, with a very wide and deep moat in front of it. The outer wall was five leagues out from the city, and it ran from one side of the narrowing rift valley to the other. Only one massive gate allowed entrance, and it was flanked by two huge, round stone towers whose upper floors consisted of Great Wing aviaries. For every five hundred strides, a somewhat smaller stone tower rose from the low wall. Each tower was garrisoned by a company of swordsmen and a company of bowmen, with each company numbering three-hundred men.

Between the outer wall and the second wall were the many farm fields and orchards which fed the city. But halfway between the two walls, and on either side of the wide, stone-paved road that cut through the valley and ran to the center of Odar’s Lair, were two large towers, again massive aviaries housing Great Wings and their warriors. The Vik were very skilled riders of Great Wings, and their trained war birds were considered the best in all the Kanris. They had to be, since they met Winged Beastie and dragon almost on a daily basis in ritual single combats.

The second wall was somewhat higher than the first. And considerably thicker. It, too, ran from one side of the valley to the other. No moat sat in front of this wall, but a series of stone monoliths with protruding iron spikes rose in front of it for the entire length of the valley floor. Again, dotting the wall were towers housing companies of swordsmen and bowmen, with only a single gate breaching this wall as well. Between the second wall and the city’s walls were several small villages, more farmlands, and two large, fortified military camps, where King Olaf’s army based itself.

The last wall was the one which enclosed the city itself. Odar’s Lair sat in one corner of the very narrow portion of the upper reaches of the valley. Here, the valley became the entry point to a set of different mountain valleys, which went higher and higher into the Kanris and were themselves the entry points into more valleys. The Great Rift Valley was a very long conduit, with the lower end wide and opening out into the hills and plains of the vast grasslands below the mountains. But the upper end of the valley was considerably narrower and rugged. In one naturally craggy niche, the Vik built their ancestral city.

Odar’s Lair was a city of heavy stone walls, twisting narrow stone streets, and many towers. A wall some forty feet high and twenty feet thick encircled the city. Several gates, fortresses themselves, broke the smooth outline of the walls. Banners, both large and small, and always colorful and bright, floated in the wind over the walls and from the many city towers. The city, although designed to be a bastion of strength from dragon invasion, was massive to behold and gave a feeling of immense power.

Yet, it was far from being a cold and grim place. It always warmed my heart when I journeyed to it. The Vik were people who loved life. Laughter and a love for the finer things in life were woven into their very soul.

It was here where I wished to hurry, to give warning of what was about to descend upon them. But here, I could not go with the young Pearl Princess by my side. And here, I could not go until I first found a way to dislodge the three Great Wings and their masters who were following us into the High Kanris.

For two days since the fall of the City of Ank, the child and I rode Cedric, a Great Wing of six strides tall, black as the blackest of coal with red trim around his eyes and talons, into the heights behind the shield wall. He was the first Great Wing of my flock whom I trained to face Winged Beasties. He was by far the most experienced of my war birds. At night, we would rest on some inaccessible rocky pinnacle barely large enough for a Great Wing, a human, and a dragon child to occupy at the same time. We made a cold camp, not wanting the flickering light of even a small campfire to give our position away to those who might be looking for us. And I knew we would be followed. I trusted not the mercenary, Helgar Longhair, nor did I trust Dagan Horak. Nor could I shake away the possibility that Baron Hartooth was aware his young Pearl Princess might be whisked away from his ever-expanding clutches by someone like me. All three figures could easily hire human mercenaries to follow us into the High Kanris to either kill us or remove the princess from my grasp. Either way, I could not chance leaving the princess with someone who was not prepared to defend her to the death. Nor would I travel to Odar’s Lair with her. At the same time, I felt the weight of responsibility to warn the Vik of the approaching forces of the First Clan pressing me down with each passing hour. Baron Hartooth’s troops would attack the Vik as soon as he could marshal his forces. The longer the Vik were left unprepared, the more terrible the fight would be.

But to make matters worse, on the second day of our journey, Cedric warned me that we were being shadowed by three Great Wings. There is something of a telepathic bond between a rider and his Great Wing. That power is enhanced and further increased if one becomes a member of the Bretan Brotherhood. There is no reading or sending of thoughts. But there is an enhanced sensing of emotions. Both Great Wing, King Dragon, and Winged Beasties’ minds I can sense and, in some fashion, influence. It was how I quickly picked up on my mount’s concern when he first glimpsed our trackers at midday. It was on the same day, and at the same moment, I was first made aware of the powers a Pearl Princess might possess.

“They do not come for me so much as they come to see where we go,” she said to me as we came to rest on the second day. “Others, many others, are to follow soon.”

These were the first words she had spoken to us since leaving the dying city. As we sat hunched close together in the dead of the night, with heavy cloaks thrown over us to protect us from the night’s bitter winds, her soft, fragile voice lifted to our ears between bites of the beef jerky she held between her hands. I was surprised at hearing her tiny little voice. Even Cedric turned from his perch to look inquisitively at me. Grinning, I nodded, reached out with a hand, and pulled the heavy cloak more firmly around her shoulders.

“Yes, that would make sense, little one. Three riders would not be enough to take you from Cedric and me.”

The large war bird, as if to concur with my words, shifted his wings and changed his stance and chortled deep in his throat. The child, turning to look up at the Great Wing, smiled and then let out a small laugh herself.

“He agrees with you, you know,” she said. “But he’d just as soon fly into their camp tonight and steal their food and bring it back to us.”

I smiled again at her words. Old and experienced as Cedric was, there were times when I sensed his impatience with me in not immediately seeking to engage our enemies.

“I like your thoughts, priest,” she spoke again, her dark reptilian eyes looking up into mine with an eerie depth I found almost hypnotic. “You are so unlike those of my kind. Sometimes, I feel a . . . a softness. . . in you. Like today, when we rode over that field of wildflowers. I heard your thoughts, and I felt your emotions. Your thoughts were warm and pleased to see flowers this late in the season. That made me feel warm, too. I like flowers.”

Earlier today, just before noon, after we had turned up a twisting valley no one inhabited, we soared over a bend in a mountain river that cut through the heart of the valley. In the middle of the bend was a wide sandy knoll, and in that sandy soil, thousands of yellow and blue wildflowers covered the ground. I remembered leaning from my saddle to catch a better look at them. It was indeed a beautiful sight.

“Why do you call me a priest, child? I worship no particular god or goddess.”

“I sense your desire to protect the weak and heal the sick. Only the Priests of Ishthas feel the same way. Or, at least, only the ones who have good hearts feel that way. So you must be a priest. But I do wish you were a magician so that I could eat a Frik. I am so hungry for a juicy Frik.”

A Frik was a dragon pastry, very sweet and tangy at the same time. Dragon children loved to eat it. As for myself, I could not tolerate the sweetness. The sticky, gooey substance and the tangy sweetness left a bad aftertaste on my tongue. But, grinning, I decided to see if I could make her smile again.

“Ah, but little princess, I am a magician! Watch carefully my hands while I say the magic words. Alabraham. . . alabreha . . . .alashazar!”

I moved my left hand over a fist for my right hand when I said the first word, and then the right hand over my left fist with the second word. And when I said ‘alashazar!’ I unfolded both hands, palms up, to reveal what appeared to be nothing but empty hands.

“Ah, and I thought I was going to eat a Frik!” exclaimed the child, genuine disappointment in her eyes.

I heard Cedric chuckle behind me. Great Wings do have a sense of humor, much like humans. I grinned as well.

“But child, what is this at your feet, steaming hot and in a stone bowl?” I said, pointing a finger toward her tiny feet.

And indeed, at her feet was a large stone bowl of steaming hot Frik, thick and juicy and smelling of cinnamon and sugar. Ursala looked at the bowl and her face lit up with a light of a hundred suns. The childish joy on her face and in her eyes was enough to warm my heart for a hundred nights.

“You are a magician!” she cried out, bending down for the bowl and reaching for it with tiny little dragon claws. “Ohhh! You are a magician!”

Cedric and I watched her consume the sticky pastry with a dragon’s relish. Her joy in eating the delicacy was total. In seconds, it was gone, and she was licking the sweetness off her hands, a smile on her lips, when she suddenly jumped to her feet and threw her arms around my neck, and kissed me on my cheek with reptilian lips. This human gesture was so sudden and so unexpected, I found myself speechless. I became even more speechless when she stepped back and spoke to me in that tiny child’s voice again.

“No harm will come to us while we are in the human city, grandfather. Their king admires you and your kind and will not allow any harm to come to you or to me. And you are right, he must be quickly warned of my father’s plans. We should go as soon as the light comes.”

I could find no words to say in response. I was perplexed by the way she so easily understood my concerns for King Olaf and the people of the Vik. But more than that, I found myself completely taken aback that she called me “grandfather.”

I felt her emotions when she said the word. They were those of a child who was in the presence of a blood relative. She indeed looked upon me as a blood relative, even though I was human, and she was a dragon. For a few moments, I blinked in silent amazement until, at last, I could answer.

“Sleep, child. Sleep close to Cedric. He will keep you warm. Tomorrow, when the light first kisses the peaks above us, we will ride to Odar’s Lair.”

She was only a child. But a child gifted with the ability of telepathy far more complex than mine. She could sense the future as well. But she was only a child. And the child in her made her stick her thumb in her mouth, as human children do when they are extremely tired, and nod her head. Turning, she towed the heavy cloak over the stones behind her and walked to where the Great Wing sat. Cedric, being almost as human as I, knew what to do. He lifted one wing up slightly and waited for the child to lie down close to him. Then he lowered the wing and gently nudged the Pearl Princess even closer.

She would be safe and warm and would sleep the deep sleep of the innocent. I, on the other hand, would be deep in my thoughts, huddled in my heavy cloak, as the cold winds howled even stronger through the night.