WAR, BLOOD AND DRAGONS

CHAPTER 9: Finding Marilyn

The bells of the temple rang at early dawn, earlier than it usually does for prayer call, Greynor hadn't found sleep for the better of the night, yet the bells toll was unrelenting, at a time when the sun hadn't graced the skies and the birds awaited the morning light to sing their melodies, it could only mean one thing; the king is dead.

"Your Majesty" The 2 Kings guard standing sentry outside the throne room chorused when Greynor walked out, it caught him by surprise and his heart sank as he began processing what it meant, he was now king, a responsibility even he knew he wasn't ready for, but it also meant he was now the most powerful man in Verynia, there's a certain fear to it but also a rush. He was met with the same greetings by the castle workers who awoke early for their chores, his Grace Edwin Chazwell; the high templer, already had three templers wrapping the body as the smell had grown too foul but Lord Bent and Prince Greyson suffered the smell to be present.

"Your Majesty" They all bowed when Greynor joined them at the now deceased King's chambers, all except Greyson who was deeply despondent by his father's demise, Greynor couldn't help expressing displeasure the moment he caught a whiff of the smell.

"They said his body began to rot even before he died" Greyson said, standing before his father's corpse which in truth seemed as though something had began eating through the body from the inside, the blood dried up and the flesh whithered, it was a horrifying sight for both brothers.

"My deepest condolences your Majesty, my Prince" Lord Bent consoled once the templars had finished wrapping the body with narrow strips of cloth from head to toe, then he took his leave as the rest was up to the high templar.

"We'll begin preparations for the funeral and the severing" Edwin Chazwell said

"Yes, but first I'd like to call a high council meeting and my brother shall be attending" Greynor said patting his brother on the shoulder before leaving.

Oscar awoke to the euphonious chirping of song birds and the gentle rustling of leaves dancing in the soft summer winds, the warm rays of sunlight penetrated the morning fog that had bathed the woodlands and softened the grounds, Greynor had insisted his soldiers mainly cover the South, it was obvious he suspected Lady Hearst was somehow involved in the princess' kidnapping, less than a fourth of his men went north and even Jakar himself agreed that North was the best place to start.

Heading south into hound territory would be an ill-fated decision for sorcerers and East had many villages, the North however has fewer and the woodlands gives good cover. Oscar arose and brushed the dirt off his short black hair, he dusted the woolen cloth he slept on and his horse nickered, taking a break from its relentless munching of the green grass below, the poor thing rode for hours last night to cover this much distance, Oscar surveyed the treeline making sure he wasn't being watched and then he scattered the burnt wood he used in making campfire last night and sat on a log next to his golden dragonscale armor, he brought out a small bag of walnuts from his satchel, breaking off the shells one by one and as he ate his mind wandered back to the jousting tournament the day before, not to the fighting itself but the girl; the Dragonsbane girl, the hand maiden to the princess, he'd seen girls more pretty, low born and high born with more discerning features and more pronounced bits but Leah had a certain warmth about her.

She had almond eyes that sparkled and her brown skin though a little pale glistened in the sun evoking a feeling of home and yet with all her charm something about her seemed forlorn, as a southern girl living in the West who was also a mage and the daughter of a traitor this was to be expected, her life is certainly not a bed of roses, Matar herself doesn't like her and the southerner try time and again to tear whatever memeory links to her and her family but for some reason he was more drawn to her person, His mind torchure him with fantasies of her last night and attempts to over again, it was an unforseen obsession that goes against his conditioning.

Suddenly a man trained extensively to be relentless in war, to forgo the aches of his own emotions and put duty over personal desire soiled his pants dreaming about the soft embrace of a girl he met yesterday and hadn't even spoken to, lust obviously wasn't new to him but obsession was, the order of shadows who groomed the spear hounds into what they are now aren't so keen on total chastity or absteinence like their counterpart; the brotherhood of shadows who chops off the manhood and singes the uterus of their trainees, the brotherhood raises assasins and the order raises fierce soldiers to fight wars and wars are fought with numbers, copulation however is never wanton rather it's excused or borne of duty, pleasure as with anything else were always intended to be within controllable limits which is why this new found obsession terrified and fascinated Oscar. He picked the skin of water from his satchel once he ran out of walnuts and gulped down a meagre portion then he removed the small piece of cloth wrapped just above the knee of his right leg and splashed a bit on the cut he sustained from yesterday's fight, he wrapped it up again and doned his armor, his sheathed swords by his side and a dagger at the other, then off he went on his search for the princess, covering 15 miles north ward on his black steed, he came across 2 of Yadrick Dover's household men claded in their usual steel armor, green fabrics and capes, word from them is that the king is dead and his successor Prince Greynor is willing to offer anything within his power as a reward to whomever finds his sister and brings the heads of her captors.

Land, gold, castles...these things were on offer but Oscar coveted neither castles nor gold, neither did he have need for land as the Lady Hearst had been generous enough in that regard, being the Commander of the spear hounds is the highest honor for a hound but never has a hound been a Dragonlord and Oscar had always wanted a dragon, granted he and Greynor have a strained relationship but oscar figured finding his sister just might remedy that.

Fortune shone on him when he came across a small clearing far off the main roads, to the naked eye it was a clean spot with clear patches of grass, no sign of camp and no reason to look twice, not even a single footprint on the bare ground but not to a hound, a mages glamour to a hound is like a partially reflective surface placed unto the enchanted object or person but with a red misty appearance, seeing past the mist is quite possible and easy but not very efficient and to break the spell one needed any biological property be it blood, spit, urine or hair from the spellcaster or to simply kill them, for a hound however, their own blood would suffice.

Oscar dropped from his horse and made a slight cut on his palm, he walked into the clearing letting the blood drip slowly to the ground and as the mist disappeared, so did the façade, there was burnt fire wood in the middle, horse droppings in more than one spot outside the clearing, fig seeds, banana peels, venison chewed to the bone, some grape vines and remains of vegetables possibly used to make stew.

They were many, the footprints alone suggested that much, they made camps and had utensils, they have atleast 9 horses and the princess too, Oscar summised that there were atleast 10 to 15 of them, they came prepared and are possibly armed, a few miles away as the charred firewood was still warm, Oscar raced North at once following their trail, a few rivers flowed from the Western sea presenting a good chance they'd stop to drink and wash, the mere fact that his hunch was right shocked him, obviously a group this big couldn't travel fast but it was stunning nontheless.

Oscar arrived at a narrow stream, it's trickling water flowing eastward with nobody and nothing in sight...in plain sight, but Oscar could see the pots abandoned by the stream, the horses tied to the trees and 11 people in a cluster hiding behind a glamour, frozen in motion and trying earnestly not to give anything away.

"It's a hound, he can bloody see us" One of them whispered and he heard yet pretended otherwise, stirring up hopes he may yet leave with no bother to them, Oscar squeezed his left palm causing the small cut he had to bleed out more, he then brought out his dagger, scooped the blood with the blade and suddenly swung it at one of them standing in front and wearing a garb, it got him in his chest and as he collapsed to the ground Oscar could smell that he was a sorcerers, the rest however were normal and amongst them was the princess Marilyn with her hands bound with chains and her mouth gagged.

As the cloaking spell scattered so did the remaining 9 men but only to surround Oscar, they had no armor but were armed with axes, maces, swords and bow, Oscar drew his sword, ready for battle, he deflected an arrow aimed at his head and had one of the men with axes hurtling at him, it was a one sided clash as the axe was heavier and it's wielder aggressive and skilled but the weightiness of the axe was an advantage to Oscar who was light on his feet and agile enough to evade the strikes, then he caught the axe on a following strike, disarmed the man and jammed his sword into his torso, it was only after he fell to his death that Oscar noticed the others glued to a spot as commanded by their leader; Raster, a slim, tall and serious looking man of brown complexion with a scar across his left eye, deformed right ear and a black boiled leather vest worn on his chest like his companions, Raster wasn't quite happy Oscar had killed the mage so he intended to make Oscar pay dearly for it, his weapon was a flail but unlike a regular flail his mace had no spikes, it was a smooth metal ball attached to a 3 feet long chain and controlled by a steel handle.

Raster's men all stepped back with the archer taking hold of Marilyn, a broad sword wasn't much use against a flail, Oscar was forced to drop it and rely more on his quickness facing Raster, and Raster in turn avoided close proximity with the hound, every swing that Oscar evaded created perilous openings that necessitated a quick reaction from him as well and flail strike was easy to evade or so Oscar thought when Raster swung low and he flipped over but on landing was met with a subsequent swing which he failed to avoid, he got hit on his chest plate and it sparked like flint stone against steel, smelled like it too and that is exactly how mages smell to a witch hunter but Raster is no mage, his flail however is enchanted and if Oscar wasn't wearing a dragonscale chest plate, that mace would've hit like a boulder.

Raster swung again at a fallen Oscar but he rolled away and towards his sword which he picked in a bid to defend against the flail, so when Raster attacked yet again so did Oscar, the sword hit the chain thus entangling it and when Raster pulled the handle, the sword left Oscar's hand and broke into 2, this gave Oscar the chance to tackle him to the ground before he could swing again, however, Raster fetched a handful of dirt and poured at Oscar's face, this then gave him the window to grab his flail once again, swing it around Oscar's neck and pull away with great effort, this sent Oscar flying spine-first against a tree, nothing was broken, a less fortunate fate would've seen Oscar flung across the woodlands were it not for the dragonscales, two more strikes were metted to a struggling Oscar fighting to regain his footing and this conclusion had Oscar loose consciousness.