Hordesmen: The Wisdom of Dragons #4 Read online

  “That’s enough,” Tyber warned.

  “Crazy straight it is!” Ren barked. “But you’re going to keep on acting this way anyway, aren’t you?”

  “What in the wilds is so wrong with that?” Tyber demanded. “How is it fair to pull that kid away from his family? To drag him all the way to the mother city for a lashing and then give him no way back home?”

  Homesickness suddenly engulfed Tyber with such force that it threatened to buckle his knees. There weren’t enough eyes in the night sky to see how much he missed his family. They were all gone. The whole mother city might as well be empty.

  And no one could set him free with the flick of a blade.

  “Uh, Tyber,” Ander called from where he sat by Listico.

  Tyber swallowed, lifting his chin in defiance.

  Ander pointed to the caravan with his knife. It was a warning to be quiet.

  Several slight figures approached.

  Tyber turned back to Ren. “If you think I’m being stupid, then why are you trying to give me half your dinner?”

  “Because I wouldn’t be alive to eat it if it weren’t for you and your stupid mission to save everyone.”

  Ren shoved the platter at Tyber, striking him in the gut.

  Tyber dropped the rations sack and grasped the platter.

  “Eat it, pitch it, or give it to Quall. I don’t care.”

  Ren turned away and stomped toward Maybelle.

  Tyber flexed his grip on the platter and looked at Ander.

  Ander made a point of studying his steak intently as he cut it up.

  “For all the sky,” Tyber sighed, then started for Quall.

  “Here,” Tyber said as he presented the tray. “You might as well eat this.”

  Quall held his own rations sack before himself, the lashings stuck in a knot. He looked from Tyber to the platter, then back. “I don’t want it.”

  Tyber’s shoulders drooped. “Come on.”

  Quall shook his head again. “I don’t want it. If they won’t feed you, then I’m not eating their food either.”

  Tyber looked across the encampment, at all the other boys busily eating around the fire, chatting amongst themselves and casting glances at Tyber and then Ren.

  “Someone has to eat it,” Tyber said. “We can’t just let it go to waste.”

  “You eat it,” Quall said. He lifted his rations sack before himself, then returned his attention to the stubborn knot.

  Tyber opened his mouth to protest, to point out that no one else was having a problem eating the food, but it would be pointless.

  “Why are you doing this?” Tyber asked.

  Quall looked at him. “We’re in this together. We’re a horde.”

  “Fine,” Tyber said. “I’m tired of arguing about it.”

  As he turned away from Quall, several older women from the caravan entered the camp. One of them carried a platter. A second carried a tray. A third carried a large mug.

  The recruits and Ander watched as the women crossed the camp and approached Tyber. As they passed through the light of the fire, Tyber failed to recognize them. They hadn’t come to the horde’s camp before.

  The woman with the platter stepped up to Tyber, frowning at the plate in his hand. Her grin faded and confusion fell across her face in the failing light.

  “We thought you might be hungry.”

  Tyber turned and thrust the plate at Quall, who scrambled to take it while still gripping the mouth of his sack.

  “That’s his dinner.”

  “Were you taking it from him?”

  “No,” Tyber said with a shake of his head. “No. Just holding it. It’s his.”

  “Hey!” Ren called from beside Maybelle.

  “Too late, recruit,” Ander snapped, a wide grin on his face.

  “Oh,” the woman said as she looked from Ander to Tyber. “That is good. We heard that Imrich said not to bring you food. Your dragon, too.”

  Tyber reached up, rubbing the back of his neck as heat floated over his cheeks.

  The woman’s smile widened. She leaned forward slightly and presented the platter to Tyber. The food was similar to what had been served to the others, but not the same. The meat was there, as well as a small pile that looked like a turnip mash. Thick slices of cheese lay beside it. And a thick slice of bread covered with something that glistened, its color like the winter grass around them.

  “For your dracca,” the woman said, then nodded to her companion who held a tray full of raw meat.

  “And to keep a good man warm.” The woman nodded at her other companion, who offered a mug. Wisps of steam rolled from its wide mouth.

  “Thank you,” Tyber said, taking the platter. “But why?”

  Ren took the tray of meat from the other woman.

  The woman’s smile widened. “We heard from Belon that she thinks you are the tarma teh who cut that boy loose.”

  Tyber’s face turned to stone.

  The woman nodded. “You are a good man, akacho.”

  She reached forward, placed her fingertips on Tyber’s leather armor, over his heart. “A warrior with a heart is a rare thing. More rare even than loyalty of the dracca. You eat well, akacho. You eat well when we are near.”

  The woman’s companion placed the mug on the platter, then winked at Tyber. They turned and started back to the caravan.

  “By the eyes of the gods!” Ren gasped as he studied Tyber’s dinner. “They gave you honey!”

  “Honey?” Tyber asked. He looked at the platter as if he’d missed something.

  “Honey.” Ren pointed to the bread.

  “No way,” Weiss said as he stood and strolled over.

  Tyber studied the bread. He’d heard of honey. Heard it was something special. Something that only kings and lords ate.

  “Woah!” Weiss gasped, then looked at Tyber. “They gave you a wild fortune, man.”

  “A fortune?” Tyber asked.

  “There’s got to be a… Maybe a quarter cup there. It’s a lot. A vial of honey in the market would fetch about…” Weiss shrugged his shoulders. “That’s probably a strip of silver there, on your plate.”

  “A strip?” Tyber asked. Suddenly the platter felt too cumbersome to hold securely. He shook his head and turned to Ren. “And now I suppose you want to share half of my dinner?”

  Ren scratched behind his ear, his attention still on the bread. “I won’t say no.”

  “Let me get my knife,” Tyber said. “Let’s see how many pieces we can cut this bread into. And the rest of this, we’ll split.”

  Chapter 16

  As Tyber carefully cut the honeyed bread into smaller and smaller pieces, Weiss told them about honey and where it came from. Tyber had imagined honey came from a fruit; a solid, round thing like a large nut. And if one cracked it open, like an egg, honey spilled out. But according to Weiss, bees made it. But not the bees that lived in Cadwaller. These were special bees that lived in Seelia. Instead of burrowing in the ground, they used wax to build their homes in trees.

  And inside their homes, they built thousands of little chambers and filled them all with honey. A mansion of honey.

  By the time Tyber had twenty pieces of bread, each little square was no larger than his thumb nail. Still, he stepped back from the platter on the makeshift table Ander had put together, and he gestured at the bounty.

  “We each get one piece.”

  As the recruits gathered around to take their portion, Tyber eyed the honey-smeared knife in his hand. He brought it to his tongue and gingerly licked the length of the blade.

  Few things in his life had surprised him as much as the honey’s sweetness. Sweeter even than the glazed breads he’d bought from costermongers in the mother city.

  He closed his eyes and his jaw clenched. The wind stirred around him and through the sweetness came the smell of dry grass, the low scents of dirt and iron that pervaded the air when he was away from the city.

  The breeze passed over his face. It felt st
range to have a beard, even if it was patchy and a poor specimen compared to that of Ander, Chanson, or Olsid. But the world felt different through it.

  He scratched at his chin.

  “Oh, wow!” Lambert murmured. “I’ve never tasted anything like it. It’s so... sweet.”

  “Thanks, Ty,” Ren said.

  “Yeah, thanks,” the recruits said.

  Tyber opened his eyes. Two squares of bread remained on the platter. One for him. One for Olsid. He should have cut them a little smaller. Saved something for Chanson.

  Tyber turned the knife over and licked the other side of the blade.

  As if summoned, the grass rustled and cracked outside of their camp. A shadow emerged and approached.

  “Olsid?” Ander called.

  The figure lifted his hand, and in a few more strides, Olsid stepped into the campfire’s light. His face was drawn, somber.

  “Tyber saved you some honey,” one of the recruits announced.

  Olsid looked at the platter with its two tiny squares of bread. He turned to Ander, and it appeared that something was communicated between them. Ander nodded in understanding.

  “How is the dragoneer?” Herminion asked.

  Olsid drew a deep breath as he looked across the boys. “I’m afraid that Chanson has not recovered. He’s gotten worse as the day has gone on. He’s being cared for in one of the wagons. They are looking after him.”

  He nodded as if agreeing with himself. He then clasped his wrist behind his back, spreading his feet slightly as if preparing to mock Master Groal.

  “You each understand the bond of dragons,” Olsid said. “Master Gury has lectured at great length about it, I’m sure.”

  The recruits nodded.

  “Well, it’s not quite as simple as Master Gury laid out. There are things about the bond that we keep close. For the safety of the dragons and their recruits. Things that I feel you should now know.”

  Tyber stiffened. He looked at Rius, who stared into the sky, her face lifted to the northwest. If she watched any god in particular, it was not obvious.

  “The bond that Merilyss holds over our horde is not a true bond. It is a surrogate bond. One formed between an adult dragon and the whelps that she is given to watch over. The bond between Merilyss and your dragons is a temporary one. Much like the bond between yourselves and your parents. You were dependent upon them for your care, your food, and your shelter until you were old enough to strike out on your own.”

  Olsid shuffled his feet and cleared his throat.

  “It is similar with dragons. Merilyss is performing the role of mentor, a mother to your dragons. And when they have matured sufficiently, and you are ready to become hordesmen, then your dragons will form a permanent bond with another alpha.”

  Tyber nodded. That did explain a few things, including how Ander and Listico could remain at the academy for years.

  “Although it is a surrogate bond,” Olsid went on, “it is still a bond. And it is built upon the bond between alpha and dragoneer. If that bond between Merilyss and Chanson is broken, the surrogate bond will collapse before we are able to prepare for it.”

  Olsid shifted his weight and hung his head briefly.

  Tyber’s grip tightened on the hilt of the knife. He wanted to step back to Rius and grab her rein as if Olsid had threatened to take her away.

  “I felt it important to let you know what will happen—what could happen should this tragedy come to pass. There is no one here, no one among us who is a likely candidate for dragoneer. It takes years of special training at the academy. Dragoneers such as Chanson are raised from birth to be what they are. And as such, it is unlikely that Merilyss will seek out another rider to bond with. In that case, the dragons will abscond.”

  Ander lowered his face, his wrist clutched before him as if mourning the passing of something.

  Tyber rubbed at the bristles over his lip.

  “An absconded horde will immediately seek out a new alpha. There is nothing you can do to stop it. Your mount will be driven by an insatiable desire, and she will search the skies for a suitable alpha. No amount of coaxing or commanding will stop her. You will essentially be marooned on your saddle until she lands.”

  Something nagged at the back of Tyber’s brain, but it felt like there was a dark wing wrapped around him, obscuring it.

  “This is why it is an exceptionally rare thing for a horde of recruits to be sent on a mission like ours. Should dragonjacks attack and break the bond with a lucky blow, then the alpha dragonjack can take as many of our dragons as she can handle into her own horde. That is how dragonjack hordes come to be. Almost every dragon you see in such a horde was once a battle dragon in one of His Majesty’s weyrs.”

  Olsid lifted his chin, and Tyber shut his eyes against the proctor’s next words.

  “Should your dragon abscond, and you encounter dragonjacks, you are ordered and you are compelled to do all that is necessary to keep your dragon from bonding. Whatever is necessary. If this means that you must strike down your own dragon with your sword while in the air, you will do so. You will do it without thinking twice. You will do it because it is the will of our king beneath the eyes of the gods that we not enrich the hordes of these blackguards.”

  Someone gasped softly.

  “This is one of the reasons you are given swords. If necessary, you will draw your sword and pass it beneath your dragon’s neck, lifting as you do so. This will fatally injure your mount. And you will be doing her a favor. Such noble beasts should be spared at all costs the indignity of being pressed into the service and treachery the dragonjacks practice.”

  Tyber shook his head. Barely. Just enough to affirm for himself that it would never come to that. Never.

  “You have a question?” Olsid asked.

  Tyber’s eyes flew open. Olsid looked at Weiss.

  “How is it that alpha dragonjacks maintain a bond over their hordes?” Weiss asked. “If it takes a lifetime of training to be a dragoneer, then how do the dragonjacks manage it? They’re not all former weyrboys, are they?”

  Olsid didn’t answer right away. He lifted his chin slightly. Clearly, he was thinking hard, scurrying for a satisfactory answer.

  “It is the wisdom of dragons to bond with whom they see fit.”

  “But—” Weiss began.

  “It is not our place to question their wisdom, recruit.”

  Weiss bowed his head. “Yes, Proctor.”

  “The bond between a dragoneer and the alpha is beyond that of husband and wife, beyond parent and child. If Dragoneer Chanson’s next breath is his last, then after that breath has expired, the bond will sever. We may be here in the camp, or we may be in the air. We will not know it has happened until after it has. That is why I felt it important to tell you all of this now. I want to stress the importance of this order. Your dragon will not fall into a horde of dragonjacks. There is no price that is worth that. If it means you must fall with your mount, then you will die knowing that you have saved countless other lives by keeping your dragon out of the hands of scoundrels and brigands.”

  Tyber inhaled deeply, quelling a growing urge to shudder. He recalled the pained look on Wanlin’s face. He claimed that dragonjacks stole his family’s goats. Killed his brother and left the family to starve.

  “One other thing. The surrogate bond is a secret that is kept by those who rear dragons. It is important for each of you to keep that secret. You do not learn about it in Master Gury’s lectures because if the surrogate bond was common knowledge, it would only heighten the danger we face when training outside of the city. I do not have to tell you the value of a dragon, and so you can imagine what some people would do in order to obtain one.”

  “Can we do anything?” Aunger asked. “For Chanson? Or the dragons?”

  Olsid rocked back on his heels once. “You can keep the secret. And you can promise me that you will follow your orders to the last.”

  Tyber steeled himself against the press for that promise,
Olsid’s insistence that they swear to it there under the eyes of the gods. Instead, Olsid stepped up to the platter. He eyed the bread, then looked at Tyber.

  “Where did you get honey?”

  Tyber nodded to the caravan.

  Olsid grinned. “You must have really impressed one of the girls back there. I better not find you sneaking off in the dark of night.”

  “I’ll post a guard on him,” Ander called.

  Olsid looked at Ander and nodded in agreement, then selected one of the squares of bread and passed it between his teeth, placing it on his tongue.

  He said something more, but the words fell away as Tyber finally latched onto what had been in the back of his mind.

  He could leave.

  With Rius. They could leave. The surrogate bond. If it wasn’t a true bond, then he could drive her free of Merilyss, race to Aerona before the bond broke. And even if it broke on the way, the call of the dragon queen and her alpha would have to be too great for Rius to ignore. She would join the dragon queen’s horde.

  And he would be stationed in Aerona. With his sister. With his family.

  Ren punched him in the side of his ribs.

  Tyber flinched and spun, his hand going to where the blow had landed.

  “You going to eat that, fathead? If not, it’s mine.” Ren gestured at the remaining square of bread.

  Tyber nodded, then placed the bread on his tongue. His mouth closed over the sweetness. He looked over his shoulder, to the darkness where Rius stood, the gleam of the fire dancing in her dark eyes.

  Chapter 17

  A cold, wet wind bit into Tyber’s cheek. He hunched slightly, seeking cover behind Rius’ neck.

  The dragon rocked beneath him, blown about by the gusts. The wind pushed them back, slowing Rius’ progress to the pace of the caravan itself. Then the wind eased. Rius flapped her wings, and they increased their pace again, settling back in behind Maybelle.

  Tyber scanned the wagons below and wondered which one held Dragoneer Chanson. Ander had assured him that the Seelians would treat the dragoneer well. They knew that their protection relied heavily upon the man remaining alive.