Chapter 53: Contention

“You’ll be wantin’ to put out t’fire,” a man from one of the nearby camps spoke up as he approached. Yren looked up from feeding a small supply of twigs to the slowly growing flames. He’d just dug the shallow pit and lined it with rocks. He dropped the tinderbox on one of the flatter rocks and wiped his hands along his rough, brown trousers. As was the custom, he’d taken off his armor just before setting up camp. Armor wasn’t very flexible and most of the chores involved with setting up camp were difficult to do if you couldn’t fully bend or kneel easily. It was Sir Uud Beffing and Leading Field Usher Bromer Hedding of the Knottline Guard’s watch so he, Syl, Gillen and Tergin had removed their armor to assist in setting up the tents and firepits. It was common practice to pair a knight – or, in Yren’s case, a person with plate armor – along with a Knottline Guard for a watch shift. There were more of the Guards than the knights, so the rotation was a bit unfair, but Gillen had made the call so there was no arguing with it.

Yren tilted his head in curiosity. “Why?”

“‘S getting’ on t’night,” the man offered sagely. He was a lean man, leathery and wiry. His hands were thick and callused from hard work and his brown face almost glowed with a reddish hue in the fading light of the setting sun.

“Why does that matter?” Gillen Hawksley asked from just behind Yren before he had a chance to respond. She’d heard the flying monsters were attracted to fire, but there was still over an hour left in the day. Certainly that was enough time before the mythical ‘dragons’ would put in an appearance.

Besides, she wanted another independent confirmation of what she was told. It was probably worthless, but she needed to hear it again. She still had difficulty believing the creatures were dragons but she’d heard enough people describe the beasts that she was having difficulty holding onto her disbelief.

The older man started at her voice, but Yren just suppressed a smug grin. Gillen had taken to trying to sneak up on him lately, so Yren had taken to paying a more careful attention to his surroundings. It was another in the series of games and lessons the older woman was using to teach Yren more about the swords and shield craft. He had overheard her talking to Sir Givens a few nights previously. She was adamant on adding the various skills and practices that differentiated a knight from a regular armsman.

Yren wasn’t certain being a knight was what he wanted. He thought back to the words his fathers had told him during the Time of Remembrance. Many paths were open to him, and he had to follow the correct ones to reach his full potential. He vowed to tread carefully and be sure of any choices he made. He never wanted to disappoint either of his fathers.

He eschewed using the word destiny because it seemed to mean something that was pre-ordained – and he had never believed his life was laid out so strictly. It comforted him that Deia agreed. The future was not yet written. Destiny was a goal, not a law.

He shook off the melancholia that often accompanied his thoughts of that time. He missed Ardt. He missed his first family as well, but his memories of them were somewhat more distant. Gillen was only doing what she thought best and just because he might never be a knight didn’t mean he shouldn’t learn all he could. Sir Givens had added his voice to hers, urging him to pay more attention to everything around him while he was ‘on campaign’ and he’d taken the words to heart. Consequently, he had heard her coming a few moments before she spoke up.

“D-d-dey come mostest t’night,” the older man stuttered, a little awed at speaking to one of the knights he recognized. He’d not identified Yren as being the knight in blue. “And dey hates d’fires. We figgered t’out quick. S’long as we bank t’fires at night, dey mostest leaves us alone.”

“They?” Gillen questioned, coming up to the fire and favoring Yren with a wry glance. She knew he’d heard her coming. He was getting much better at minding his surroundings, even when distracted with another task. “Who’re they?”

“T’dragons,” the man replied simply, a look of fear on his face.

Gillen’s face drew into a closed frown, her brows drawing together. “You’ve seen these dragons?”

“Yes,” the man replied fervently. “I watched as dey set t’fire my stead. Burnt t’all down t’bare dirt. We just gotted out wit’ our lives.”

“Dragons?” Gillen asked disbelievingly, playing dumb. Everyone she’d come across was sure it was dragons they faced, but precious few had had an actual encounter with one. Instead, most of the terror was from secondhand accounts. She wanted to probe someone who’d actually seen them.

“He’s telling d’truth,” a woman blurted from behind the man.

The woman had once been a beauty. She had raven hair hanging down around her brief, oval face. Her eyes were a deep, forest green with a sparkle to them that was attractive in and of itself. They were set shallowly above a nose which was slight but proud. Her lips were full and only the wrinkles drawn from hard work out in a harsh sun detracted from her attractiveness. “I didna believe it meself – until I saw them. They wuz big as our barn and red as the demons of chaos. They spat fire from they mouths and burned everything. We were t’lucky we’d been in our field and headed t’me mams afterward. We lost everyt’ing ceptin’ what we had wit us.”

“Me mam,” the woman continued, tears streaming down her cheeks. “She lost everyt’ing includin’ her life. We could hears her screamin’ as we pulled up. She burnt wit’ her house.”

The woman looked down at her hands, which were bandaged with dirty cloths that had once been white. “I tried ta saves her but t’burnt too hot.”

“I’m sorry for your mother,” Gillen said softly. “We have a ... a priestess ... who can heal you...”

“No!” The woman said, a fire of her own rising in her eyes. “No. I’ll ‘member me’mam wid de scars from t’fire what kilt her.”

“I ... I understand,” Gillen sighed, her mind moving back to the friends she’d so recently lost. Strangely, they’d died by fire as well though a fire which was at least marginally more natural than the one claimed to have taken the woman’s mother. She shook her head as she realized she considered mage-fire to be more natural than a dragon. Prejudices were difficult to discard but she had to admit every eye witness account sounded eerily similar.

“So, you’ve actually seen one,” Gillen pressed lightly, but her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“May me goddess Ta strike me down if I’m lyin’,” the woman replied, her face stony.

Gillen stood for a moment with her lips pursed. Silently, she evaluated the two closely, her eyes narrowing even further. Then, she nodded her head briefly as her face cleared.

“Yren, put out the fire,” she ordered. “Evidently, less than two hours of light is too close to sundown. I’ll have Syl pull out some cured meat from the other day. It’ll be a cold meal of bread, meat and cheese but we’ll make do.”

She turned to the man and the woman. “I’m Honor Hawksley, First of the Third. You and your family are welcome to join us, goodman and goodwoman. It won’t be much, but we have enough to spare.”

“Thanks ye, yer’honor,” the man accepted gratefully. “I’m Tobold Sill-Larkin and this is our second, Melly Itti-Larkin. Our first, Kelly Larkin, be still at d’camp, lookin’ a’t’wee ones. We’s gots seven chillen, mostly growed, though t’oldest is still not reached her majority. We’s used t’doin’ witout fire at t’night. Melly here done cooked up a stew earlier and we’ve more’n enough t’share. It’d add a bit o’ t’warmth and help stretch d’meat and cheese. We’ll be ten t’dinner, if y’please, and bring some victuals of our own.”

Gillen filed away the information Tobold had just shared. Since Kelly was their first and Melly their second, it meant Kelly and Melly had married first and then brought Tobold, their third or maybe their fourth, into the marriage (Tobold could be fourth if Kelly and Melly had had a previous spouse who’d died). It made no real difference, but it could help avoid confusion.

“Don’ ferget t’pixie,” Melly admonished her husband.

“Pixie?” Gillen asked, her head tilted quizzically.

“Aye,” Tobold said with a snort. “She be followin’ us for t’past few day. Came out o’d’forest she did wit’out a stitch o’clothes t’her name. Cute lil ting, wit hair white as snow, but not right in d’head – quiet as d’mouse ... or maybe d’coor as she not made t’sound since she came to us. We figger she lost her mam and pap t’ d’dragons and t’filled ‘er head wit chaos. We be takin’ care o’ her.”

The man shrugged. “So, I guess ter be el’ens o’ us but don’ worry, she don’ eat t’much.”

Gillen nodded yet again. “Eleven is fine. There are thirty-four ... no, thirty-five ... of us, will that be too many?”

Tobold smiled, shaking his head. “Melly’s cooked enow stew for t’week. ‘S good ta heat ‘er up in ta evens. If we t’run out, we can cook ‘nudder batch later in t’week.

Gillen smiled and reached out her hand to grip the man’s, then turned and did the same to Melly. “Thank you for your generosity.”

Yren watched as the man and woman hurried back to their own camp, even as he dumped dirt on the fire he’d barely started. “More dragons,” he mused.

He glanced over at Gillen, unsure if she believed in the dragons yet or not. “They’re all telling the same tale.”

“I know,” Gillen said tightly. “These are one of the few who claim to actually have seen the beasts.”

“I think we’d best assume the stories are true,” she continued grudgingly, refusing to acknowledge Yren’s point. She wasn’t sure she wanted to trust Yren’s apparent ability to talk to metal. Of course, it wasn’t nearly as strange as dragons... “If you hear them from one or two people, you can discount what’s said. But all these people and all these eyewitnesses? Something is going on and dragons, or something close enough to being a dragon as not to have a significant difference, appears to be the culprit.”

“Elva used to tell us children’s tales about dragons,” Yren remarked, more to say something than anything else. His reticence to speak had opened up a bit lately, especially around Gillen. She’d taken quite some time and effort to keep his training honed and sharp and he greatly appreciated her effort, even if he knew it was self-serving. “Ardt too, for that matter. Don’t tell her I said this, but Ardt was always the better storyteller.”

“I think I can keep that secret to myself,” Gillen replied with a smile. The smile didn’t reach her eyes, which were filled with worry and doubt. She noticed Yren’s eyes would occasionally drift to the nearby tent. She’d have to caution him about that eventually. His eyes had a tendency to give away secrets he might not want to share. “Assuming I’m adequately compensated, of course. You help me steer Ataya away from any and all dangers and I’m fairly certain I will be able to keep it.”

Yren chuckled wryly. He knew her joviality wasn’t so much about the secret and more as an acknowledgement he’d tried to warn her about the dragons. “I’d do that anyway, Honor Hawksley.”

“I know you would, Yren,” Gillen sighed. “I know you would.”

She waited a moment, her eyes drifting around the camps surrounding them and then up to the sky. “Dragons or no, I think we’ll go with three shifts of three guards tonight. Spread the word.”

“One or two knights on each shift?” Yren asked. With eight hours to cover and five people with armor – Yren shied away from calling himself a knight even though the others included him in that group – it meant the armored contingent had gotten a full night’s sleep only one day in five. If they doubled up the armor wearers per shift, none of them would get a full night’s sleep.

Gillen thought about it for a moment. “Just one as usual. There are times I wish we could sleep in our armor, but it just isn’t practical.”

She bit her lip ruefully before continuing. “And make sure they watch the sky as much as our neighbors. We’re open here, surrounded by other camps. I felt the tradeoff between having people hiding in trees versus having to watch people sneaking around tents was a good idea. However, if there are dragons, we might be a bit too open.”

“Oh, and make sure Ataya and our guests dress down this evening,” Gillen went on as she knelt and helped scoop handfuls of dirt into the fire pit. “No mention of titles – at all. And no baths tonight. They had one yesterday and, while I laud their daily cleanliness, we have more pressing concerns. They can get by with damp cloths today.”

“Of course, Honor,” Yren said formally, rising up from his crouch. He was a bit disappointed. It was his turn to guard their baths tonight. Even though he’d taken baths with his sisters all his life, there was something about watching women bathing in a lake or river that excited him.

He looked down at the partially filled-in pit with a satisfied expression on his face, even as Gillen scooped more dirt onto it. “You did mention you were First of the Third, though. They’re bound to jump to some conclusions.”

“Maybe,” Gillen admitted grudgingly. “I think there are enough females around Ataya’s age to keep them guessing, however.”

She knelt there for a moment, rubbing her hands to get off the excess dirt and looking around carefully. She shook her head, a look of disgust on her face. “This was a mistake. We should have set up camp in the trees. I should have taken the dragon threat more seriously, even if I disbelieved it.”

“Shall I give the word to strike the tents?” Yren asked.

Gillen sighed and stood up in one easy motion. She stared at Yren for a moment, but he could tell her mind was elsewhere. He watched as her eyes focused on him and she gave a slight shake of her head. “No. There’s not enough light. It’ll be worse to have us fumbling in the dark ... and I think it best if we keep the fire out tonight. We’ll take better precautions tomorrow night.”

“You’re being awfully free with information,” Sir Givens said as he stood from his crouch behind one of the tents. He had waited until Yren was out of earshot before rising. He watched as the young man made his way towards the bulk of their camp.

“It’s the only way to give him the experience he’ll need,” Gillen replied.

“I’ve taught him the tactics,” Sir Givens said defensively.

“You’re a great teacher,” Gillen offered congenially. “The problem is, there’s teaching and then there’s doing. He needs the field experience and this, inadequate as it is, is the only way I can get that to him. At least, for now.”

“You certainly need to shore up his observation skills,” Tergin Givens sniffed, changing the subject slightly. “I was able to get as close as this tent and he didn’t notice me.”

“Oh, he noticed you,” Gillen explained with a sigh. “His eyes were darting to the tent every few seconds. It’s another thing I’ll – we’ll – have to teach him. He gives away too much information with his eyes.”

Tergin nodded, brows raised. “I’ve told him before ... but as you said, there’s teaching and doing.”

Tergin paused for a moment before continuing. “So, you’d sponsor him for the Third? Or one of the other platoons?”

Gillen’s head turned quickly to her old teacher, her face expressing shock. She was slow to respond and when she did, she measured her words carefully. “I had not considered it. Even without the customary apprenticeship as a squire, he has the potential to be great and I could certainly see him within the ranks of the Third.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t sponsor him, though.”

Tergin frowned. “Why not?”

Gillen chuckled ruefully. “I think we both know why not. Of the twenty in my care, I’m returning two. My career, such as it is, cannot withstand that. Even if it could, no one will ever follow me again. The stigma will be too great.”

She shook her head, her face growing stony. “No, my career is over. I’ll be lucky just to lose the Third. I fully expect to lose my knighthood.”

“Surely not,” Tergin replied, aghast. “What happened was not your fault. You did what was necessary to return your primary charge unharmed.”

“What does that matter?” Gillen asked. “You’ve been away from the knights too long, Sir Givens. Things have ... changed. You know politics have always been a part of the thousand, but it’s become much worse now. In-fighting has grown, and ambition has become even more focused than in your day. Battles between the platoons have not yet occurred, but I fear they’re not far off. No, this trip has ruined me.”