A Trilogy of Knights Read online

  Ordinarily, yes. But my circumstances were far from ordinary.

  "Might I hear the tale? Or do I presume?"

  I do not mind telling it. I am fifty-three years old. Quite old, given the rate at which knights kill us.

  Bran made a face. "Must you reprimand me at every turn?"

  Topaz's nostrils flared with amusement. You are fun to tease.

  "Oh." Bran could not think of anything to say to that.

  Topaz continued with his story. Almost forty-five years ago now, when I was only a child, I was nearly killed by a Northern knight. But he was young and foolish and did not finish the job by taking my head. Instead he left me to bleed to death… Sometime later, an older man wandered through the wood. To this day, I do not know why he was in the forest. I think perhaps he was collecting something, or perhaps was merely out for a walk.

  But he saw me and was unhappy. He debated on whether to finish the job or not. Surprised that he was hesitating, I told him I did not want to die. His nostrils flared again in amusement as his swirling eyes focused on Bran. He was much less calm than you about hearing a dragon speak.

  "You scared him?"

  Scared and delighted, more like. Like most men, he had no idea dragons could communicate. He thought it utterly fascinating—and immediately decided to try and save me.

  "Sounds like he was an interesting man."

  He was. His name was Rowan, and he was what you would call a sage. Quite a respected one, enough that when he brought a dragon home a few months later, very few protested. And those who did were quickly silenced.

  "A sage? You mean a magic user? But those are only myth."

  I promise you they are as mythical as a talking dragon.

  "I believe you. "

  You learn quickly, for a human. Perhaps there is hope for you yet.

  Bran rolled his eyes and half-smiled. "So you lived at the castle with him?"

  Yes, for nearly thirty years I lived there. Perhaps I should have left sooner and returned to this lifestyle…but I grew fond of it. You humans are idiotic at times but not complete idiots. There is…a certain charm to your lifestyle. Except for the incessant need to kill dragons and one another.

  "You will get no argument from me on that quarter. And do not make another jibe—I truly have learned my lesson."

  If you insist on taking away my fun.

  Bran smiled. He was slowly growing used to Topaz's sly humor. "I did not mean to interrupt your story."

  I strayed first, there is no harm done. Where was I? Ah, yes. Nearly thirty years I lived there, and quite happily. Especially the last twelve…but I will elaborate on that later. Suffice to say that I was well liked by many…and severely disliked by others. When the king was slain, so too was my sage. Because he was the king's head advisor and his staunchest supporter.

  "I…but…could you not have helped?" Bran shook his head. "I am sorry, I did not mean that the way it sounded. More, I meant to ask how it was done that you were unable to help."

  I was not far away when it occurred, in the next room actually. If I had been a bit faster… But even then, it would have taken the magic too long…

  "I do not understand."

  It is quite simple. Rowan spent years teaching me many things, including magic. He created a special necklace for me… Unfortunately it was taken. But I still know the spell…

  His talking ceased, replaced by a soft, lyrical chanting. The limited light in the chamber provided by torches seemed to fade and shimmer. Bran's eyes misted, and he rubbed them.

  When he opened them again, he gaped at what he saw. He could not think of a single thing to say.

  Gone was the dragon. In his place was a man with warm brown skin and rich, dark brown hair falling around his ears in soft waves. He was tall and slender, all tight muscle and no excess fat. He wore a tunic the color of dark mahogany, with hose and leather boots to match. A plain brown belt was cinched at his thin waist. Bran could not take his eyes from the man's skin… Never had he seen skin that color. Tanned by the sun, yes. But not such a soft, beautiful brown. It was an earthy shade, with gold undertones that suited the slightly softened angles of the man's face, the toned lines of his body.

  Odder even than his skin was the jewelry. The man had yellow-brown jewels in his ears, and three strings of them around his neck, resting against the dark skin bared by the low-cut edge of his tunic. They were only a few shades darker than his eyes, which were a stunning gold-brown and so strangely bright in the dim light of the cave. "Who…"

  The man smiled, making his handsome features…well, he was quite simply the most beautiful person Bran had ever seen. "Recognize me? I would imagine not. It took six years before Rowan managed to create the spell to make me human."

  "Make…Topaz?"

  "Yes." The man smiled again. "Quite a fascinating spell, is it not?"

  "Quite," Bran echoed weakly. "That explains a lot."

  "Yes." Topaz sat down across from him at the table. "Are you okay?"

  "I am well enough. A bit overwhelmed perhaps…but I am rapidly growing used to strange things."

  "Shall I finish my story then?"

  "By all means." Bran tried not to stare at Topaz, eyes helplessly drawn, over and over, to that impossible beauty, those alluring eyes.

  "I lived with Rowan as a dragon for eight years. During the first two, teasing me for being so uncomfortable around humans, he playfully suggested that he should find a way to make me one. I said that would be rather interesting, and over the course of the next six years he proceeded to do exactly that. Eight years after I went to live with him, he succeeded in turning me into a human. This," he motioned to himself, "is the result. Several years later, when Rowan and the king were attacked, I was in the room next to theirs, reading. I heard their cries too late. Their killers attacked me when I arrived."

  He looked at Bran. "I can only maintain this form for a few hours at a time, and then I must rest for a day or so. After he made the spell, Rowan created a necklace that permitted me to keep this form indefinitely. They knocked me out and dragged me away, into the woods. Stabbed me and took the necklace."

  Bran said nothing, waiting for him to finish.

  "If they had left it on, I would have died. But they had always disliked me, especially as a human. Unholy, they called it. So restoring me to my rightful, bestial form was probably what they had in mind. Anyway, it was what saved my life."

  "You did not go back?"

  "I wanted to…but there would have been little point. My Rowan was dead, and he and the king were the only two I ever cared strongly about. And he always hated violence… It would have hurt him dearly to see me reduced to slaying them out of petty revenge."

  "A wiser being than I."

  "It was harder than it sounds. I wanted nothing more than to burn the lot of them to cinders. But it would have saddened Rowan, and I could never bear to see him unhappy."

  Bran smiled faintly. "I think it commendable. Would that I had someone to whom I was half so devoted."

  "Now that you are not intent on killing yourself, perhaps you will find such a person."

  "You are never going to cease remonstrating me, are you?"

  "No."

  Bran shook his head. "So what do you we do now, sir dragon?

  "Nothing until you are healed. And then? Perhaps I could not exact revenge, but since Rowan's death I have done little more than hide and mourn. After all Rowan did for me, it is time I did something to return his kindness. You seek freedom… Mayhap together we can wrest control of the North from those who usurped it. Surely such a feat would earn your freedom—and I would then gain a home."

  "It sounds a worthy endeavor to me. But we should not linger here too long. They will think me dead after several days have passed and send others to kill you."

  "We will move in a few days, when you are healed sufficiently to manage travel. In the meantime, rest, read. Enjoy what limited freedom you have."

  "I thank you, Topaz. I have
done nothing to merit the kindness you have shown me. Quite the opposite, in fact."

  Topaz brushed his words aside with a shrug. "Once I too was left alone in the woods to die. I would be the greatest of hypocrites if I had left you." He rose gracefully to his feet. "Now I will go find food. Read, rest."

  *~*~*

  "Are you sure it is wise for me to go on my own?" They stood at the crest of a hill, just slightly off a well-used road, watching the castle a short distance off.

  "It is the only way. As a dragon, I could wreak a great deal of havoc, but that is not what we want. Without my necklace I can provide little help." Topaz shook strands of hair from his face, sending his earrings dancing. "I've been gone several years, so what is actually occurring now, I know not. It is up to you to determine the present circumstances."

  Bran nodded. "Where shall I look for you?"

  "See the forest just beyond the field behind the castle? There is a path that winds through it. Eventually it takes you to the port. However, perhaps a twenty-minute walk or so into the forest, you will come across an immense tree covered in ivy. Behind it, out of sight, is another path. You will not see it unless you know to look for it. Take that path until you come to a small waterfall. I will wait for you there."

  "Very well. Wish me luck, Topaz."

  "May good fortune favor you, Bran of Trenton." Topaz smiled, distracting Bran briefly from the task at hand. Topaz rose fluidly to his feet. "Take care, and do not act rashly. I will await you at the waterfall." And with that he was gone, into the forest to make his way around the castle and to the meeting spot.

  Sighing, Bran checked his weapons and squared his shoulders. He assumed an easy but rapid pace, looking for all the world like a soldier that had somewhere to be but was in no particular hurry to get there.

  He met several others on the road, some going his way, others heading in the opposite direction. Halfway to the castle he paused for dinner, resting against a tree at the roadside.

  Footsteps approached and Bran tensed as shadows fell across him. He glanced up at the soldiers standing over him. They were dressed just as lightly as he was, though their leather armor was brown rather than black. One carried a broadsword and three daggers that he could see. The other carried a crossbow.

  "Mind some company, stranger?" The one with the bow spoke, whipcord thin and bony. But muscles rippled as he motioned to the ground around Bran with his crossbow.

  "Please, sit."

  "Our thanks, brother." The swordsman spoke in a much more mellow tone than his companion, though he looked the more dangerous. Their accents were the long, lazy syllables of the South, so it was entirely possible. He was built much like Bran: broad chest and shoulders, arms and legs strong from soldiering. Looking at him, Bran wondered if the man had once been a knight. He looked as if the weight of armor would bother him not at all.

  The man with the crossbow brought out their food and a skin of wine. Taking a swig, he offered it to Bran. "Share with us, friend."

  Bran offered them a friendly smile. "What brings you this way? Southerners seldom venture into the North."

  "Work, of course. What work is there for men of battle in the South? Far too quiet there. And we hear there is a great deal of noise up here. And what of you? Your accent says you hail from the West."

  "I find it aggravating to dance to the king's tune. I much prefer my own music."

  The swordsman grinned. "A runaway knight, eh? It is either a brave man or a foolish one that swears fealty and then runs away."

  "And which are you then?"

  The man laughed heartily. "I prefer to call myself brave, but if I am caught I am certain I will be calling myself every kind of fool. And you, sir?"

  "It is my opinion that only the foolish lack enough sense that they can act bravely."

  That surprised a laugh from the man with the crossbow. "Well said, brother." He smiled, the sharpness of his features easing. "I am Gerald of Longmoore. My friend is Keverick of Cherrior."

  "Bran of Trenton. An honor." Bran passed the wine to Keverick.

  "It is good to know we will have at least one friendly face upon our arrival. Rumors say the noise here, though great, is not the friendliest—not even to allies."

  "I have heard much the same," Bran said.

  Keverick grinned. "At least we will not be bored."

  "I would rather be bored than dead," Gerald said sharply.

  "Calm down," Keverick said, unconcerned. "If it looks to be too bad, we shall simply take our leave and head elsewhere."

  "We had better."

  "Whatever you command." Keverick smiled at Gerald, and the two stared at each other a moment.

  Bran had the feeling they had forgotten he was there. Something was strange in the way they looked at each other, but he could not figure out what. He shrugged it off, eating the last of his midday meal and stowing the rest.

  Gerald coughed and returned his attention to Bran. "Our thanks for allowing us to join you. Shall we complete the journey together? The more the merrier, as they say."

  "A fine idea. I am used to being surrounded by fellow knights. Solitude does not rest well with me; the company would be appreciated." Bran smiled as he climbed to his feet and joined the other two back on the road. He did enjoy being among soldiers again; he had missed other people in the month it had taken him to heal.

  Not that he had ever truly been lonely. Topaz was…soothing. Bran had never met anyone like him, and he still found it hard to breathe whenever he looked at Topaz in human form—and those swirling eyes were disconcerting when he was a dragon. No, he had never been lonely. Quite the opposite.

  In fact, he already missed Topaz. This was the first time he had been back among people since he'd left to slay a dragon. In another hour or so he would be back in the hustle and bustle of the castle, lost in the hard life of a soldier. The quiet, easy time in Topaz's cave seemed very far away, and he wished it were closer.

  But he would see Topaz that night if he could manage to get away. That would have to content him. In the meantime, he would focus on the mission.

  *~*~*

  He was rapidly growing fond of Keverick and Gerald. Keverick had indeed once been a knight, but for a lord rather than a king, and he had rapidly grown bored of what he termed "the spoiled oaf's incompetence." Gerald had been a hunter for the same lord, and they had become fast friends. They left when the situation at their keep turned from bad to worse, and had been wandering slowly north ever since.

  There was still something strange about them, but Bran could not figure out what. The way they looked at each other, the way they interacted and responded to each other…something about it was familiar, but he could not place it. Hopefully it would come to him eventually.

  Getting accepted into the ranks had been an easy matter. Banditry was even worse inside the country than it was at the border, which made Bran grimace. Nor was he the only mercenary-type seeking wages as a castle soldier. Most of the official army had apparently run off to become bandits.

  He could discern no clear leader, however. An older man, Vladimir, seemed to be in charge for the most part, but his control was tenuous at best. The only thing truly controlling these men was money, and money ran out.

  Proving himself was easy. After countless battles astride Crush, both of them heavy with armor? Combating bandits and enemy soldiers in less than ideal conditions? Fighting in a practice arena in only leather armor was painfully easy.

  Bran barely managed to keep a straight face when, after his trials, he was assigned to the soldiers that would be keeping bandits from the city. Thirty years he had worked to climb to his position, and now he was right back to the very first duty he'd been assigned. But that also meant he was free to do as he pleased until his assigned unit returned from patrol.

  He wandered around those parts of the castles he could visit without suspicion.

  Frowning, lost in thought, Bran wandered into what turned out to be an ill-kept garden. Most likely no on
e had the time to spare to tend to a luxury when there were so many necessities. That or the one who had favored the garden was no longer around to see that it was maintained. Rowan had liked the garden, as had Topaz.

  "It is rare to see anyone from the West," a voice like oil interrupted his reverie.

  Bran tensed and turned slowly around.

  Vladimir stood at the threshold, arms folded across his chest, dark green eyes narrowed suspiciously as they examined Bran. Several rings glittered on his hands: a fat ruby and a heavy emerald among countless others. A fortune in jewels on his thin, spidery fingers. "Especially one as skilled as you. What does a knight of the Western Realm want here?"

  "I grew tired of always being on my knees." Bran shrugged.

  The older man sneered. "You find it better here?"

  "Money is a fine mistress, and there is no king to force me to obeisance. Have you any complaints, my lord?"

  "None at present, sir knight."

  "I am a knight no longer."

  Vladimir turned dismissively away, long, heavy robes swirling around him "That remains to be seen, Bran of Trenton."

  Bran resisted the urge to smirk as the man vanished. They were so busy suspecting him of spying for his king, he need not worry about them discovering Topaz.

  Which reminded him that he'd best be on his way. He did not want to be wandering the forest in complete dark. Perhaps he could commandeer a lantern from supplies.

  He retraced his steps through the winding halls of the castle and back toward the main hall. From there he knew his way to the supply room. And all the others were either in the dining hall or practice arena. Where Vladimir had slunk off to, he did not know. Best to be quick then.

  But the sound of people in the storeroom brought him up short. Something sounded strange. Slinking up to the door, which was just barely ajar, he pushed it gently open and looked inside.

  It was sheer shock that kept him silent.

  Gerald and Keverick were locked in an embrace; the noises he had heard were Keverick pressing Gerald against the shelves on the far wall. And Bran suddenly realized what about them had always bothered him—they were lovers and clearly in love. How had he not realized it? What a twit he was.