Silver Dragon Read online

  "Not in recent history," Durak told her. "Even Celos was here for two full tests. He became a recruit the day after a testing so he'd have the entire time to learn and be ready for it, but still it took him two tries."

  Aleena flashed him a smile and then gathered her dinner and moved to a table. She gave her blessing for the food and then devoured it. By the time Durak joined her, she was finishing up the last of her meal. She grinned around a mouthful of bread and then washed it down with a cup of water. She leaned closer to him and said in a hushed voice. "I'll make it at my next one!"

  Durak smirked, spilling some water down his chin in the process. He scowled and wiped his face clean with his hand. "You're going to need to do a lot of work and even then, I've heard there are a lot of people who don't want to see you succeed."

  She glanced down at her empty plate and nodded. Sir Amos had told her the same thing. But he'd also told her that if she worked hard, she could do it, although not in so many words. "Why should that matter?" she looked back up at Durak and asked. "Whether I succeed or fail is up to me, not them. I will work harder than anyone. My only real challenge is you, and you already told me you're lazy when it comes to something you're not a natural at."

  Durak coughed on his food, earning a laugh from her. When he could breathe without obstruction again, he looked at her and sighed. "You're something else. I'm not sure what though. Insufferable? A brat? I don't know."

  Aleena smiled and nodded. She'd been called those things and more in the past for how she always managed to get her way at the Foaming Mug. "But you're still going to help me, aren't you?"

  "I don't know, I'm awful lazy," he teased.

  She let him know what she thought with a raised eyebrow. "That's okay, I won't wear you out completely. When I'm done with you, I'll make one of the others spar with me."

  "You're mad," Durak muttered. "Don't we get enough abuse in a day around here?"

  "Just think of it, we'll all get better! And this will be one of the best group of recruits and future Knights of Leander that the church has seen! Isn't that alone worth it? Shouldn't we all be working as hard as we can?"

  Durak lowered his fork and stared at her. Aleena met his gaze without backing down. "I don't know if you're inspired or naïve," he admitted. "You've got a way about you that makes me look into myself, though. That sort of thing could be dangerous to some people. Yes, I'll help you and yes, it will make all of us better for it. Just be careful is all I ask."

  She grinned and barely managed to keep from jumping over the table to give him a hug. "I can't promise anything," she told him, "but I'll try."

  Durak grunted and focused on his food. Aleena rose up and returned her dishes to the kitchen. She made her way back to the barracks before heading for the library; there was one more thing she wanted to take care of before spending her evening in reflection and study.

  She was thankful when she found the barracks empty. She moved to her bed and grabbed the sheets hanging around it. She pulled them down and folded them up, and then looked at her chest and bed. The light was already better, as was the flow of air to it. She nodded, reassuring herself, and opened her trunk to retrieve a change of clothes. Her training outfit was stained with dirt and blood; the priests and acolytes tending the library would turn her away in such a state.

  She changed into a dress and was out before anyone interrupted her. She'd deal with their sputtering later. It was for the best; she was sure of it. If she was going to be treated as an equal, then they had to accept her as such. Hiding behind mysterious sheets and always wondering what each overheard whisper and sigh meant would only complicate things.

  Aleena smiled. Alto had made a name for himself by demanding to do things how he thought they should be done—why couldn't she? She knew he'd be proud of her for sticking up for herself. She had six months of hard work ahead of her and then she'd show them all, starting with Celos.

  Chapter 8

  Alto rode Sebas to the north through the night and most of the next day. By the time the sun was dipping below the horizon, the foothills bordering the Northern Divide lay ahead of him. He was close enough to the mountains that ash mixed with the snow to cover the ground in a dirty gray.

  "I don't suppose you want to split watches with me?" Alto asked his horse after he'd dismounted and began to set up camp. Sebas turned and looked at him while chewing on the oats in his feedbag. Alto sighed, reminiscing how Winter had been both a mount and a traveling companion. "Figured it couldn't hurt to ask."

  He wandered around, gathering up what sticks and bushes he could. He drew his dagger and sawed at the smaller limbs of some trees in hopes that he could make a fire hot enough to burn the green wood.

  The rest of the night he spent huddled next to the smoldering fire. Alto dozed fitfully and woke with a start every time a pine bough popped in the fire or the weight of snow and ash cracked a branch on a tree.

  He rose stiff and cold in the morning. Sebas, at least, was spirited and playful. Alto scowled as he readied and then mounted his horse. He headed north without a word, rising into the foothills and looking to the mountains ahead as the rising sun defined them. A few wisps of smoke still rose from the caves in the easternmost mountain.

  As cold and unfriendly as the terrain looked, Alto knew it still teemed with life. The animals had fled or been driven into burrows by the ash but he knew they'd come back. The monsters in the mountains had been shaken as well. Goblins, ogres, trolls, and even the yeti that had attacked Alto had been trying to escape. He wondered what other horrors lived within the peaks. He knew of one: the dragon Sarya. Alto suspected he'd learn of many others on his way to find her.

  But first he had to find Thork. Alto surveyed the landscape and wondered how he could go about it. The troll seemed to like warm places and this was definitely not a warm place. He'd found him in caves twice now, but Thork had said he was going to get far enough away to get a good seat to watch Alto's attempt to bring the mountain down on top of Sarya's forces. As far as he knew, Alto had succeeded. But where was the troll now that “the show,” as he'd called it, was over?

  "Where would you go if you were a swamp troll shaman with no love for Sarya or her men?" Alto asked his horse. Sebas ignored the question and continued to plod through the dirty snow. "He said he looked for places like this. Places where battles were fought. Places where there was bound to be fear."

  Alto fell silent as he wondered where he might find another battle. He'd just put a stop to a potential battle, or at least delayed it. No doubt there would be many more in the future, but he didn't know where they would happen at or when. Thork had been spending time in caverns near the dwarven mines, waiting for one to break out.

  "He felt my fear!" Alto hissed. Sebas snorted beneath him in reaction, but not because he had anything to add. Alto stared down at his horse and wished again that Winter was with him. The unicorn was far more than a horse could ever be. Sebas was a good horse but Winter was something else. The magical equine was not only the finest steed Alto had ever seen but he was smart, too. As smart as a man, if not smarter than many Alto had met.

  Alto shook the thoughts of Patrina's mount aside and focused instead of when Thork had saved him from the eel in the underground lake. The troll told him that he'd felt Alto's fear and come running to help when he realized he'd sent Alto off to wash off the burning cream he'd given him without a light. The warrior reached up to itch at his chest where his hair was only now beginning to grow back from the alchemical substance Thork had given him.

  "If he can feel fear, then that's how I will find him," Alto vowed out loud. It wasn't his fear that he sought to summon the troll with. Alto couldn't imagine there being anything left for him to be afraid of. He'd lost everything save his own life, and considering the fate of all of those he loved, he wished that it would have been him instead of them who had fallen.

  No, Alto would use the fear of others to bring Thork to him. The mountains were full of camps and villages of cr
eatures that were no friend of his. The fear of the goblins and their larger cousins would serve as the fuel for the signal fire he would light.

  With his grim plan unfolding in his mind, Alto guided Sebas to his left, heading towards the mountains that had not been bothered by the magical eruption he'd caused weeks before. He'd head towards Highpeak, where he knew of a few villages high in the mountain passes or in the caves. If he could find something between here and there, then he'd begin sooner. Otherwise he'd just have to keep going.

  * * * *

  Two more days passed before Alto spotted a trail that led up into the mountains. He rode Sebas up the rocky trail until his horse slowed and fidgeted. Alto stared ahead and then glanced around, looking for whatever it was that slowed his normally courageous steed.

  Sebas had never been trained as a warhorse. Far from it: Sebas was the son of a plow horse. Alto slid down from his saddle and stepped around in front of the horse. He studied the ground and looked around, even going so far as to sniff the air. Sebas whickered behind him and nipped at Alto's shoulder.

  Alto stepped forward, closer to where the trail went between a boulder and a massive pine tree. The snow was dirty and packed down from the feet of travelers, some four-legged and some two. Alto saw the prints of boots and animals alike.

  Alto turned back to Sebas and removed his shield and his bow from the horse, and then removed the saddle bags with water and food in them. "Go back to Holgasford," Alto said softly to him while turning the horse around on the mountain trail. "It won't do either of us any good if you get spooked and send us off a cliff. Head back and wait for me. If I don't come back, they'll take good care of you. Maybe find you a nice filly to run around with."

  Sebas tossed his head and tried to turn to look behind him. Alto held his reins and denied him. "Go!" he insisted. Alto pushed the horse and then slapped him on the flank, earning a startled jump. Sebas took off and trotted back down the trail.

  Alto turned back around, already missing his horse. He pushed the thoughts away. In the mountains, Sebas would only cause trouble. Besides, this way his horse would be safe. Alto couldn't promise that where they were going. Far from it, in fact.

  Alto walked forward around the pine tree and saw the trail dropped into a valley. The valley was occupied by a pack of the iron wolves that were feeding on a deer they'd managed to kill. Alto scowled. This was what Sebas had smelled or sensed. Just a pack of seven wolves.

  A growl to his left made him turn. He changed his count to eight. The wolf that was snarling at him was either late to the party or a sentry. Alto was taken back to his vision when the northern shaman had let him commune with Saint Preth in hopes of having his frozen fingers and toes healed. He'd had to fight wolves with nothing more than a branch that time. This time he had his new sword.

  Alto yanked the blade free even as he let his saddle bags and bow fall to the ground. The wolf leapt at him but the massive canine wasn't fast enough. A line of steaming blood sprayed the snow from where Alto's blade had sliced through muscle and bone. The wolf collapsed when it hit the ground, whimpering and snarling as blood melted the snow and froze into the rocky ground.

  Alto held up his blade, admiring how clean and swift it had been. Kevard's Blade had been a heavy and powerful weapon. His new sword was lighter, faster, and leaner. A drop of blood ran down the edge of the blade and dripped off, freezing when it fell into the snow. Alto turned to the wolves below. Now there were seven.

  He strung his bow and selected three arrows to stick into the snow, point first, beside him. They'd have to run up a hill to reach him. The distance was only fifty feet but it would be enough to slow them in the knee-deep snow. He fit the first arrow to his string and drew back on it, and then sighted the largest wolf and loosed the arrow.

  Without waiting to see how well his aim was, Alto grabbed his next arrow and let it fly as the wolves turned and spotted him. He reached for his third arrow and fired it into the wave of fur and teeth that seethed up the hill towards him. He tossed his blade aside and picked up his sword just in time to meet the rush.

  Alto's blade rose, fell, thrust, and slashed. The magical sword never tarried when it sliced into the tender flesh of his foes, but there were so many that he was driven back and even knocked to a knee at one point. He put a hand down to grab up his shield and felt teeth grinding against the dwarven chain links on his arm. The voracious teeth didn't penetrate the mail but the pressure left his arm bruised.

  Alto thrust with his arm and then buried his sword into the chest of the wolf trying to dismember him. That freed his arm, allowing him a chance to club another wolf with his hand. He slashed again with his sword, cutting the tip of a wolf's ear and leaving a bleeding score along the creature's shoulder. The wolf leapt back, snapping at the air.

  Alto turned slowly; there were only three wolves remaining. Two of them lunged at him, coming from different directions. One slammed into the back of his leg and snapped with jaws that felt as iron as the wolf's namesake at his hip. The other ran straight into Alto's sword, forcing the point through its throat and into its chest. Alto yanked the blade free and smashed the hilt into the wolf trying to topple him. He turned and let the blade fall on the stunned predator, ending its life.

  Alto turned back and saw the wolf with the trimmed ear loping off through the snow. He scowled but let it run. He'd scared it off. That meant it was afraid. Was the fear of a wolf enough to catch the attention of the troll shaman?

  Alto watched it run before he turned and gathered up the rest of his equipment. He had most of the day remaining but now no horse. A gust of wind kicked up a fresh gale of snow in his face. When it died away a few moments later, he looked down into the valley and saw the partly eaten corpse of the deer was being dragged through the snow. He squinted, trying to make out the speckled white shape of the creature. It looked like a massive cat, but not one he was familiar with.

  Alto sighed. "So much for fresh meat."

  He started down into the valley, following the trail before the gusting snow blew signs of it away.

  * * * *

  Alto found a sheltered overhang to spend the night but his attempts at a campfire ended shortly after the sun fell. The trees that grew out of the rocks were small and scattered. He warmed himself briefly and spent the rest of the night huddled in his cloak, shivering and catching brief naps.

  Alto was more than ready to move by the time the sun broke the eastern horizon. He climbed out of the shallow cave and headed up a rise that took him between ridges. A bitter wind gusted at the top of it, blowing snow in eddies that caused it to gather in drifts along the ridge. Alto worked his way up to where the snow was lowest and crossed over into the next valley. Within a few steps, the path dropped low enough so that it was covered in shadows.

  The gusts decreased as Alto walked lower into the valley. After twenty minutes of breaking through drifts that had formed overnight, he caught the smell of wood smoke. He looked around but saw nothing except the dark snow-covered rocks of the mountains around him. The peaks were lit by the rising sun, reflecting only enough light ahead of him to confuse his eyes. Even dazzled by the contrast between brilliant snow-covered peaks and inky shadows, he thought that the base of the valley had a forest of evergreens in it.

  The closer Alto grew, the more frequent he caught the scent of campfires. The sun rose as he walked and the trees grew close enough for him to be certain of them. He stumbled forward, anxious to find a fire to warm himself properly. The only problem was that the only fires this deep in the Northern Divide would not be made by creatures friendly to him or his cause.

  A snarl a few moments later confirmed Alto's prediction. He drew his sword and raised his shield towards the direction the wolf had come from. Peering around it, he saw the wolf with a clipped ear slinking forward out from between the low-hanging boughs of some trees. It was the same wolf that had escaped him the day before.

  "You should have kept running," Alto muttered. He readied his sword a
nd started towards the wolf.

  The wolf raised its head to the sky and howled. Alto wondered if the wolf was challenging him or alerting his friends. He shrugged his concerns away and broke into a run through the snow. The wolf crouched low and backed away, and then sprang to the side when Alto reached it.

  Alto turned and followed, slipping on the frozen rocks beneath the snow. The wolf pounced back to his left and then jumped towards him. Alto raised his shield in time but was knocked back by the weight of the large creature. He pushed himself back upright and spun in time to swing his shield and slip the wolf behind his good ear with the rim of his shield.

  Alto fell on the stunned wolf and rammed his sword along its neck, spraying hot blood into the snow and ending the creature's life in moments. Alto rose up and looked at the steaming dark fluid on his hands. He raised his eyes to the dead wolf and then looked into the forest.

  Alto realized Wolves don't make fires . He knelt back down and used his sword to cut the wolf's head and some of its pelt off. He worked quickly to clean as much of the blood and meat from the scavenged parts, and then went one step further and skinned most of its scalp free. He broke the skull and left the wolf's jaws attached to the skin.

  Alto cleaned the skin with snow before he draped it over his head and pulled the wolf fur cloak he'd taken from Holgasford about him. As a final bit of theatrics, he dipped his fingers in the cooling blood from the wolf and drew streaks on his cheeks with it. Alto hoped to terrify whatever it was that had lit the fires; whether they thought him a wolf-man or something far worse didn't matter. It was a shame he'd sold the yeti pelt he'd used to keep himself from freezing when he'd last come out of the mountains. He'd needed the money for the horses that Caitlyn and he had ridden to Holgasford.

  Alto pushed forward, following the path that he could once again make out through the trees. The valley brightened as the sun rose but now the trees served to add shadows. The smoke was stronger here, trapped by the pine boughs and prevented from being blown away by the wind.