Broadswords - 30. The Rescue

Broadswords

Chapter Thirty
The Rescue

Elsior and Deke had vanished before Daegon was able to put together what was happening. Birten had escaped? While it was good news, he couldn't help but still be concerned. If Birten was anywhere near as disoriented as he was, there was no telling what he'd go through trying to get out of wherever he was.

And while he'd barely managed to avoid being burnt alive, he was still shackled to the wall of the cave. If nothing else, the inevitable was delayed.

The dragon stood just as it had before the two men left. However, it remained otherwise unmoving. Daegon had never seen anything like it. A dragon that was completely and utterly at the control of a human being. It appeared that it would only attack on Elsior's command. Fascinating as it was, it would only be a matter of time before Elsior returned and finished the deed.

Well, if Elsior returned. Days began to pass, and Daegon was no closer to freedom. The dragon hadn't moved except to lay down when it chose to sleep; other than that, it sat staring at him, which he could barely make out in the darkness. And Elsior had yet to come back.

In what could be considered a small piece of luck, heavy rains had begun to fall after Elsior and his counterpart vacated the cave. A small rivulet of rainwater had found its way down the cave wall, and Daegon was able to keep himself partially hydrated. Between the dirty water and the lack of food, though, he was beginning to feel sick. If he made it out of this alive, he was likely to get a stomach bug. But he wasn't ready to give up yet.

He knew he could last a while without food, but it didn't mean his body wasn't craving it. He'd almost begun to feel numb to the harsh pains in his stomach.

Finally, about four days after their departure, he heard footsteps echoing off the cave walls. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could just decipher two voices over the din of the rainfall. This was it. He'd officially meet his end in the most expected way for a dragonslayer: death by dragon.

"Can you see anything?" asked one of the voices, and it was not that of either Elsior or Deke. He didn't recognize it at all. Perhaps one of the villagers? He couldn't fathom that they would come out this way, especially if they knew exactly what Elsior was doing.

"No, Roark, I can't. There are matches in my bag, find them and light one of the candles. That is, if the rain didn't soak through everything."

Daegon heard the shuffling of items for a few moments before a small flame appeared. Apparently the matches had stayed dry through the storm. He watched as the light moved through the darkness, and a second flame emerged. The man, Roark, must have also found the candles.

"Holy shit!" Roark said. "The dragon is right there!"

"What did you expect? You knew what we were getting into," the other voice said. Daegon could sense the irritation he had with his companion. It made him realize how harsh he probably came across to Birten over the years.

Roark scoffed. "Yeah, I know. But I didn't realize it was right there."

"It's not going to move, remember? The Pyromancy clearly indicated that. We just have to get in and find him. I'm not sure how deep the cave is, though. We might have a bit more to go…."

Were they friend or foe? Daegon wasn't sure if he should call out to them. Then again, it didn't really matter. The cave wasn't as deep as the unnamed voice was expecting. They would stumble upon him in a few dozen paces. "Here!" he said hoarsely.

"Dragonslayer, is that you? Sorry, I don't, uh… I don't actually know your name."

They didn't know his name? Why had they sought him out – in a storm, in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere – if they didn't even know who he was? Unless Birten had sent them? Maybe once he'd escaped, he'd managed to get word to whoever these men were to come find him. But Birten surely would have at least provided his name, so that Daegon would be more at ease. "Daegon," he said hesitantly.

The two newcomers approached Daegon slowly, with only the light of the candle to guide them. As they neared, Daegon could barely make out their faces in the dull glow. "I'm Phërion, and this is Roark. We're here to get you back to Jhirdyr."

"How did you—?" Daegon began, but Phërion interrupted.

"I'll gladly explain everything on the journey back, but right now there's no time. We have to get you out of here before Elsior returns. Roark, there's some lockpicks in the bag, too. There's something you're useful for, hurry up and get him out of these chains."

Roark quickly went to work on the cuffs around Daegon's wrists, and freed him in almost no time at all. The two of them lifted Daegon up, and he was unsurprisingly weak on his feet. He almost crumpled under his own weight, having not stood in quite a while. But the two men caught him, and allowed him to steady himself.

They stepped around the dragon cautiously; though it didn't seem that the beast would attack without Elsior's command, there was no need to irritate it. They kept a relatively slow pace so that Daegon could keep stride between them. He was glad he was able to use them as crutches. There was no telling how long it would have taken him to get out of the cave if he had been forced to do so unaccompanied.

Two horses stood near the mouth of the cave. They seemed slightly spooked by the sound of the rain, but Phërion and Roark had tied them tightly to prevent them from darting off. Phërion guided Daegon to the closer of the mares. "Here, you get on my horse with me. She's a bit younger and will be able to hold both of our weights for a longer ride. Hold on to me, Daegon. It's coming down out there and the last thing we need is for you to fall off in that mess."

He managed to pull himself onto the horse as the other two unhitched the reins. They, too, mounted their rides and departed into the downpour. Somehow, he had made it. He'd survived the dragon's cave.

Over the week's journey back to Jhirdyr, Daegon began to recover from his imprisonment. Phërion and Roark kept him fed and watered, and he was grateful for that. However, he quickly learned that their rescue had nothing to do with Birten, nor did they know anything about the missing squire. They were members of an assemblage resisting the efforts of the Dark Collective, a group Daegon had only a brief knowledge of.

They shared with him how they'd discovered his whereabouts through the practice of Pyromancy and how his return to Jhirdyr was a necessity in preventing Elsior's plan from unfolding. He'd also learned that they had put a plan in motion regarding Harmon, though they'd kept the prince in the dark about it.

"So why bring me into the mix, and explain what's going on, but not to Harmon?" he asked, trying to keep sane from the back of the horse. It was one thing being on a seven-day journey whilst directing a horse oneself, but being a passenger was doing nothing to make it seem bearable.

"For one," Phërion said, "you're more directly involved. We needed to get you back to the kingdom and we couldn't have easily done that without filling you in. The prince, Harmon, he's more of a side participant. He's not going to be able to do much to stop a dragon attack on the kingdom, but he can still help. For another, it's hard to explain with Pyromancy. Or any mancies, for that matter. I just knew that it was best not to reach out to him directly or it could foil the plan altogether. The less he knows, especially considering his past with Elsior, the better. If he was fully aware of the happenings, it could throw everything askew."

Daegon wasn't sure if the answer sat well with him, but it wasn't the most important piece of everything that was happening. He was far more concerned with getting back to Jhirdyr and preventing the attack.

According to Phërion, a slew of dragon eggs had been discovered in a cave near the kingdom. The eggs had already hatched and it was only a matter of time before they'd be matured enough to emerge from the cavern. The Pyromancer had learned of Daegon's confinement soon after arriving in Jhirdyr and he and Roark had immediately embarked on the trek to Dorre.

"In my visions, I could see that you're going to be an integral part of this battle," he had said.

He had also stated that none of his visions thus far had included Birten. When Daegon asked if he knew anything of Elan, the same response was received. Apparently, divination wasn't as impressive as Daegon would have expected. Hell, Phërion couldn't even confirm if they'd be successful in eradicating the dragons and saving the kingdom. He just claimed that the things he'd seen so far would be steps in the right direction.

Daegon inquired almost relentlessly about different possibilities that could occur, but Phërion's answers didn't vary. Even when they took the occasional break from the ride, and Daegon tried to get him to see something in the flames of the bonfire or a candle, there was no new information provided.

"It doesn't work that way. I can focus on the flame and try to will things out of it, but it speaks to me when it speaks to me. I'm not always going to get an answer or a vision."

Eventually, he stopped pushing. He was sure of one thing, though: he was glad he was not a mancer. If an art couldn't be perfected, he didn't see the point.

By the time they'd reached the gates of the kingdom, Daegon felt relatively back to normal. His strength was back up, and he was ready to shut that bastard Elsior down. Though there were plenty of things that agitated Daegon, perhaps his biggest infuriation was being made to look like a fool.

Phërion and Roark dropped him off at his home, and advised him of the whereabouts of the inn in which they were staying. They'd be in touch, they said, and headed off to get some rest in proper beds.

After a quick bath, which he was desperately in need of, and the downing of an entire bottle of wine, which he felt he was equally necessary, Daegon made his way to the castle. He needed to have a long conversation with the king to find out what was truly going on.

When he arrived at the castle gate, he was immediately greeted by one of the more lax guards. "Oy, Daegon. You here to visit Elan?"

"Elan?" Daegon said, blindsided by the question. He hadn't realized that Elan was even at the castle, so clearly that wasn't the reason for his visit.

The guard looked at him quizzically. "Of course. Where have you been? He's still recovering from the incident, and the apothecary is keeping him here until he's convinced that he no longer needs to be under observation."

Thinking quickly, a trait that he was apparently learning from Birten, Daegon nodded. Whatever had happened to Elan, he seemingly should have been aware of it. There was no point in the royal family learning that he had been tricked into an unofficial quest that had gotten the best of him. It could have a negative effect on his ranking, or at the very least cause a distrust with the king. So he played along. "I am. What kind of slayer would I be if I didn't pay my respects to my injured brethren?"

He was allowed entrance into the castle and another member of the kingsguard led him to Elan's room. As he entered, he saw Elan sure enough laid out on a bed, looking sheepish. Another man, whom Daegon didn't recognize, was seated next to him. He looked surprised by the sudden visit, and stared at him from his chair.

"Daegon!" Elan said heartily.

Whatever was happening, if it had caused Elan to be hospitalized, was big. He wanted answers. He wanted Birten to come home safely. And most of all, he wanted Elsior's head on a stake.