Roland of the High Crags - Books 1-3

Chapter 6-3

“Woman! We four are home from the fields and we bring supper with us!” Brogan yelled, holding up the string of fish with unmistakable flair.

“See, grandfather? See what I caught?” Ursala called to me in glee, running across the cobblestones half-carrying, half-dragging the giant fish with her. “I caught it! With my own line!”

“See this wooden spoon!” Tomasa shouted yet grinning as she raised a big spoon over her head and began shaking it. “I will c***k all of your heads if you get my kitchen splattered with mud! Now off with you, outside, and take those filthy clothes off and don some fresh ones. And you, dear husband. Clean those fish so I might prepare them for tonight’s meal—now, dear husband! Before I throw something at you!”

I began laughing at the spectacle before me as I bent to one knee in order to look at Ursala’s catch. She, too, was laughing, and she lifted the fish up for a moment, and then dropped it to the floor in order to free her hands, which she then threw around my neck. Like the child she was, she kissed me with her muddy face on my cheek and giggled gleefully as I returned the kiss. Mud and all.

* * *

One week after our arrival, the rain stopped, and the skies cleared. The boys and I saddled our birds, and, to my surprise, the large pack bird I had last seen far behind us in our escape from the city was with us. All our provisions were intact. As I lifted the many leather bags up to tie them down again on the pack bird’s back, another surprise awaited me. Gold coins, freshly minted and fully weighted, filled four heavy bags. A king’s ransom. I turned and looked at the nephews of Olaf for an explanation.

Sheepishly, both shrugged, hemmed, and hawed. And then Gawain took it on himself to explain.

“My lord, our uncle knew you would not take money. So he swore us to secrecy until we were well away from danger. He knows the hardships he has placed upon you with our presence. He knows you must fight the dragon with an army. So he insisted on providing the funds you will need to build such a force.”

“And sire,” Gawaith quickly threw in, his face blushing. “He bade us to tell you that if more gold was needed, we are to approach his cousin, King Alfred of Belliphon, with your needs. The king owes a longstanding debt to our uncle and he will not refuse whatever you ask.”

I lifted a suspicious eyebrow at the two of them as I pulled tight the straps of Cedric’s saddle. I said nothing and let the two stew for a moment in front of me. I turned to look at them both, putting my hands on my hips in the process.

“Hmm, is this to happen every time?” I asked in a dubious voice .

“What, sire?” Gawain stammered, color draining from his handsome face as he quickly glanced at his brother, then back at me.

“Have we angered you, sire?” the other chimed in, his color likewise draining as he gulped in fear.

“This,” I said, waving a hand from one to the other and sounding very severe. “This ritual if one speaks, the other must say something, too. Are we to put up with this for as long as we are together?”

Both burst into wide grins at the same time. Color flushed back into their complexions and relief shone in their eyes. They were not in trouble and now recognized my playful mocking. Glancing at each other, their grins widened still. Turning to look at me again, both heads went up and down in the affirmative.

“Yes, sire. We have been this way since birth!”

“And probably will continue after we die. . . uh, maybe.”

Lifting my head, I laughed. Laughed long and with much pleasure at the way the two answered. Turning, I lifted a grinning Ursala into the saddle and strapped her down tightly before I climbed into it myself. The boys hurried to their mounts and strapped themselves in. After waving to the dear old couple, we leapt into the skies and turned west.

West by north. Deep into the wildest regions of the High Kanris. To a place I knew had been long forgotten by the living. A place so ancient the single stone keep, and its surrounding heavy stone walls were covered in tough mountain lichen in tenacious carpets of light green. There, we would find safety. There, in a sliver of mountains which actually were not a part of the High Kanris, would be a place where an army of Winged Beasties and Great Wings might come into being. There, in a valley called The Edge of the World, we would find sanctuary.

The Edge of the World.

A forbidding place. Held by many, both man and dragon, to be haunted and filled with evil spirits. The mountains protecting it were far smaller than the shield wall of the Kanris where, at its base, the range jutted far into the northern steppes like a misshapen, crooked finger.

Our sanctuary. . . and only three months away, if we rode our birds mercilessly. Longer in duration, if those who hunted us forced us to divert from our path and compelled us to take a more tortuous, but safer route.

I wished to enter the valley called The Edge of the World long before the first Winter storm made traveling almost impossible for man or beast. Yet, I knew we would not. Somewhere between here and The Edge of the World, I had to find shelter for the child and the twins. A place far from those who, even now, were fervently searching the high country with grim desires to destroy us all.