Chapter 9
Dogheads, also known as Conchinds or Concani are a group of Shadowlanders that live in the Mountains of Twilight and the Black Marsh not far from the Boundary Land gate of Greshold’s Keep. Physically, they resemble Daoine bodies with greyhound-like heads, not to be confused with werewolves or other animal-to-Si shapeshifters. Theirs is a warrior culture, with great emphasis with military training from early childhood, and an intense attention to vengeance rituals. Their major allegiances are a pact with Lady Bercha and also an alliance with Dubh Derg, the king of the Hill Trows.
Before the Sundering, they were said to have inhabited the lands around Brightwater and the mountains beyond, and have done major attacks both at Greshold’s Keep and around Brightwater to reclaim the ancestral lands they believed were wrongly taken from them.
-Dictionary of the Peoples of the Shadowlands, by Mellt Purslaine of the Alder Branches
The only sound contesting with the wind was a group of six people riding strange beasts across the desert. Bird-headed, dromedary bodies with wings, and claws on their front legs, they moved easily across the landscape. Crossing one final ridge, they paused at the top for a moment.
Violetta Greenleaf looked at the scene below her, and her heart quickened a bit as she realized that they were at the end of their journey. It had been a long, dusty trip across the desert, cool and dusty during the day, cold and dangerous at night, when things native to the place came out to find what they could find to hunt. Still, they crossed the desert with only one attack by a lone lilu, and no one, not even one of the Syenah griffins, had gotten injured. And now they were here.
The ruins of Xendo’s freehold glared under the midday sun, the jagged shapes of ruined stone walls surrounding the mouth of what once was a productive mine. A large rockface arose behind it, not exactly a mountain, but too big to call a hill. It was barren of anything but stone and gravels, black in the brilliant light, a long ridge that ran east and west for most of a mile.
Near to the front of it, nestled just outside of ruins, was a small shack made of chunks of stone wall and bits of wood. Stacks of broken stone formed pile after pile surrounding it to the right of the structure.
“Quite the sight,” Xhindi said, pulling up next to Violetta. “Not exactly what you were expecting, eh?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know what quite to expect, but I didn’t realize it was so small a place,” Violetta said.
“It never was all that much. A place for the miners to live, a place to sort the stones as they dug them up, rockpiles of unwanted stone. I doubt if there were ever more than twenty people here at one time. Not enough water for much more. Not enough money made to haul more in.” Xhindi said, nodding. “Still it produced some of the best black opals, and there were always a few willing to brave the rock for dreams of wealth.”
He gave his reins a shake. “Well, looking at it won’t get us there.” Slowly the line of griffins moved out.
When they reached the bottom, they saw no movement, no smoke from the chimney of the shack. The wind echoed, playing with a rope hanging from the roof, attached to a leather bucket. From time to time it hit the side of of the building.
“Piter?” Xhandi said, dismounting. “Rashan? You around?”
There was no answer. One of the griffins gave out a call, a sharp caw, sounding something like an overly loud raven. A small rodent looked up, then ran for cover among the rocks. That was the only response.
Violetta slipped off her griffin, giving it a pat on the neck. “Maybe they’re in the mine?”
“Could be.” Xhindi sniffed the air. “I’m not sure I like the smell of things around here.”
The rest of them dismounted. Ashira, Xhandi’s lieutenant, took the reins and secured the beasts, while the rest headed for the shack.
“Stay behind me, woman,” Xhandi said. His aura flared, and he gave a hand sign to his men. They quietly readied, but did not unsheath their weapons. “Something feels, smells wrong.”
He went over to the door to the ramshackle house, and knocked. “Piter?”
There was no answer.
Xhandi tried the door, and a waft of something awful came out. The color drained from his face and his eyes narrowed. Violetta tried to peek over his shoulder, but he stopped her and slammed the door shut the door and turned and blocked the door.
“No, no. You don’t want to see what’s inside there. You don’t.”
“Piter...?” Ruath, one of his team asked.
Xhandi nodded. “Torn up. I couldn’t tell what did it.” He gently shoved Violetta towards his men. “Give me a minute.”
He walked around the side of the building, and after a moment, they could hear him retching. Nobody spoke, but when he came back, he had walked all the way around the shack. He took a long pull from his water bottle, swished it around his mouth and spat.
“No sign of anybody breaking in. Whatever did...that...to Piter was let in through the door,” he said.
“You think it was Rashan?” Ashira asked. He fingered a touchstone at his waist, connected no doubt to a magic shield device, but didn’t activate it.
“He wasn’t that type,” Ruath said. “A real desert rat. No way he would have lost it out here after all this time.”
“You’re probably right,” Xhindi said. “Go look down by the mine opening. Let’s see if we can find him.”
The men filed off. Xhindi took another drink of water.
“Are you all right?” Violetta asked.
He shook his head. “This is going to be a case for the DIC. That room stank of Blazendraught.”
“Blazendraught?” Violette’s eyes went wide.
“Some, shall we say, rogue dragonkin like to use it to interrogate Darion and even Daoine folk. Dragonblaze, the one medicine all need, and often carry with them. It never causes suspicion. Yet it has this one power – making non-dragonkin give out all their secrets. It kills them in the end, pretty much dissolving them from the inside out. Not a pleasant sight...or smell. We jinn are gifted in the odor department. Something about us being the children of air and fire. I’m still trying to get the smell and taste of it out of my nose and mouth.”
He breathed deeply. “I don’t think they’ll find Rashan among the living.”
“But why?” Violetta asked, obviously confused by the turn of events. “Why attack two wildcat miners?”
“Perhaps it wasn’t anything to do for the mine. Perhaps the original attack that ruined this place didn’t have anything to do with whatever artifact they discovered. You said your friend hid something, but he or his body was never found. Could they be searching for that?”
Violetta’s eyes widened.
“We better find it and leave here quickly.” Xhindi was interrupted by a shout down from the mine. “The kill didn’t look fresh, but I only got a glimpse. It could be there are still watchers here. We need to be gone.”
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The offices of the military forces that protected Ynys Afel were labyrinthine. It was divided into several sectors; those run directly as the Royal Guard, under the Hawk, master of King Bear’s forces, the Redsticks sector, which controlled most of the rest of the military, the Magic Guard in their own sector sealed off from the others, and finally the offices of the Birch, who ran special sorts of operations – intelligence gathering, covert actions, interdicting enemies in ways that minimized regular military for both security and diplomatic reasons.
Today, after his summons from Greshold’s Keep, Gweir Blackthorne followed an officer through the maze off offices into an eastern wing of the building, passing through multiple sets of doors each guarded by two guards in formal uniforms who checked their papers, and waved them through.
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“That was the last checkpoint,” Gweir’s companion said. He pointed to a final door. “Here is where you go next. I’ll be out here waiting to escort you back.”
“Thank you, sir,” Gweir said, nodding.
The officer knocked, heard the voice say something, and opened the door. Gweir stepped through.
Bedwyr, known as the Birch, sat at his desk. It was a huge desk, of finely carved wood, meant to impress, but had only the smallest sheaf of papers on it. The room was very sparsely decorated – a file cabinet, a bookcase, a shelf of mementos. Bright dragonfire lights lit the room. There was no window.
Gweir walked in. He was dressed in the uniform of the Boundary Guards, black silk trimmed with silver over mail. He stood at attention and saluted neatly.
‘Captain Blackthorn of the Boundary Guards reporting as summoned, sir.”
The Birch looked down at his paperwork. “Gweir Blackthorn, consort of Lady Elaine of Allynwood. You have come to my attention because of your work at Greshold’s Keep including reports of how you have worked with both Shulan of the Dragon Web and Jared Redbeard, and with the resident Magic Guard circle as well. Your handling of the recent smuggling attempt led Jared Redbeard himself wrote a letter of commendation Well done.”
“Thank you, Lord Birch.” Gweir allowed himself just the tiniest flash of a self-satisfied smile. “I couldn’t have done it without my personnel.”
“Indeed. The stealth, efficiency, and teamwork shown by your men have been noted,” the Birch said, with a nod of approval. “Good personnel make a difference. But it takes good leadership to make it all come together.” He looked up at Gweir. “These are qualities I am always on the lookout for. I have asked the Hawk to borrow you for a time.”
Gweir felt a swell of excitement at that news. “Me, sir? Does this include my men?”
Birch handed a paper to the captain. “These are the names of those I am thinking of. Look over the list. You know your men better than I do. I will be integrating them with one of my units. You know what I do. We don’t just guard the Boundry Lands. We find out what the enemy is thinking and take it to him, long before he gets a chance to strike.”
Gweir nodded. “Yes sir.”
“You are aware of the recent burst in smuggling and what is being smuggled.”
The younger man nodded.
“We need to get to the bottom of this. Some dragonkin house has to be involved. We know Shadowlands people are. I’m forming a special unit to work on this. I want you and your people on board with this. I’ll be bringing in Sael Havron of the Maple Leaves as your training officer to start.”
“Yes sir. Havron...he’s just about a legend to us, sir. I can’t tell you how much I’m honored, sir.
“Wait until he puts you through his paces.” Birch smiled at the man. It was a smile that held a touch of warning. “Tomorrow report back with your comments about the list, and after that, you will have a week to get your affairs in order. Training is intense, and while there, you will be out of the dragon web. Make sure your lady knows that.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good luck, and welcome to the team,” Birch said. “No need to tell you this is not to be spoken of,”
“No, sir.”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Gweir saluted again, and stepped smartly out of the office.
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It was late afternoon at the White Circle compound, a quiet time, when the magical studies students had finished their classes for the day, the Magic Guard candidates were off in their training facilities, and few, besides those using the library, were walking the halls. It was a good time for peace and reflection; the Oldest had lit a stick of a soothing incense, trying to do just that, but her mind was too busy to really fall into the state she was hoping to. “So much happening, so many decisions to make, so many pieces of the puzzle to put together,” she said. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and tried once more.
There was a knock on the door. Sighing, she got up off her meditation cushion and went to her desk. “Come.”
The door opened, and Ruell, one of the members of the White Circle’s inner membership, stepped in. Dressed as she was, in a long white robe with a hood, he carried a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Some of our information requests have started to come in,” he said. “I just received a report from Lea Whiteleaf, from Greshold’s Keep. They’ve had a full three-stage attack by the Dogheads.”
“An honor foray? Or the forebearer of something more?” the Oldest asked. “Although, could we even tell yet?”
“Lea seems to think it was an honor event, in retaliation for the smuggler raid a few days earlier. She has a pretty full set of notes on the attack.” He handed the report to her.
“Lord Birch has sent a request for coordination on a new task force he’s forming to combat smuggling in and around the Boundary Lands.” Ruell handed her an envelop with the royal seal.
The Oldest looked at it thoughtfully. “I wonder what Bedwyr is cooking up.”
“And we have several reports from our field agents in the Shadowlands. There’s gossip among the merchants about Bercha and some Dragonkin deal.”
“There’s always gossip about that,” the Oldest said, sighing. “If it’s not Bercha, it’s with Gwrgi Garwlwyd, Duke of the Dogheads, or it's with Dubh Derg, king of the Trows, or with Twr Ochren itself, as if Aife would bother with them. My aunt would be more likely to have them served in her dinner hall.”
“This bit of gossip involves someone with connections to Jared Redbeard, maybe.” Ruell gave the Oldest a knowing smile. “And the talk was that this person had connections with one of the Dragonkin houses.”
This piqued the Oldest’s interest. “Not Briarwood and Flysch?”
He shook his head. “No. Informant didn’t catch the name, though. Didn’t think it was one of the transport companies.”
“We need to know more.”
“I know,” he said. “Working on it.” Ruell handed her the last of the reports, then turned and left.
She rubbed her forehead. “I’m not seeing something. I can feel it, but I just don’t know…” Picking up the letter from the Birch she was about to break the seal when there was another knock on the door.
“Oldest?” It was the soft voice of Ethne, her assistant.
She put the papers on her desk in a drawer, then answered, “Come.”
Ethne opened the door. “You have a visitor, Oldest. Lady Gwenyth Allynswood, of the Alder Branches.”
This surprised the Oldest. “Well, send her in. Bring some tea. I suspect this is about her daughter. Then stay close; I might need you to run some interference.”
He nodded, then stepped back out, soon to return, followed by a tall, blue robed woman, black of hair and blue of eye, almost the double of her oldest daughter, Lady Elaine Allyns. The visitor swept into the room, moving somewhere between agitated and awed, tinged with hopefulness.
“Lady Gwenyth, welcome,” the Oldest said, standing and waving her guest to one of the visitor’s chairs. She took her seat once more. “What brings such a distinguished member of the Alder Branches into my office on this fine Winter afternoon?”
“Ah, Oldest, it is a rather fine afternoon, I must admit. A touch chiller than I’d really prefer, though. Still, the sunlight is wonderful.”
“That’s the thing about winter. Look at my garden.” It had a layer of snow on it, marked by shrubs, and some plant stems. Small birds hopped across an area where someone had placed a dish of seeds. “It’s so different that it looks in summer when all is green and flowering, and yet it still has a certain charm worth looking at.Isn’t it odd how life is like that?”
“Indeed. So much so.”
“So what brings you, dear lady, out of the Alder Branches?”
“Two years ago, I entrusted you with my most precious possession,” Lady Gwyneth said. “I allowed Arriane to take up training in the White Circle’s magic training.”
The Oldest nodded. “And she has been an excellent student. Still, this was noble deed, especially since your family has favored the Alder Branches for years beyond counting.”
“Until this generation. First her sister chose the Greenfellows after her schooling in Comrie. Her father told me that fighting with her over it would be a wasted
effort, and since she was going to take over the estate after I came here, I gave in.” Lady Gwyneth shifted in her chair. “It’s not a bad path for someone running a place as big as Allynswood. Agricultural wisdom and magic can make a big difference. My grandmother made the same choice, and it made our lands bloom. Perhaps its why our family still holds the land, and hasn’t had to move to Ynys Afel like so many other noble families, living off the largess of the King.”
“Perhaps,” the Oldest said. “Still, children must find their own paths and callings. We can’t live our dreams through them.”
“I know, I know,” Gwyneth said. She leaned her right elbow on her chair and cupped her cheek into her hand, staring out of the window. “Arriane, though...I had such hopes for her. She finished her schooling early at Fohmer Hall, still a bit young for the advanced classes, so I decided to let her follow her own heart until she reached the right age. I was already here at Greenholt. All the good institutions have programs for the younger ones. I was hoping she would pick the Alder Branch program, but...”
“We did not seek her out. She found her own way to our door.” The Oldest looked at her visitor, wondering briefly if this need of her mother’s was behind why Arriane had accepted her offer so quickly. Before she could order her thoughts about that, there was a knock on the door, and Ethne let himself in with a pot of tea, a tray of sliced fruit and small sweet cakes to go with it. With a touch of grace he placed it on a serving table, poured two cups of tea, and left the women to their discussion.
“The tea is from Brinda,” the Oldest said, after her assistant had left. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s the best place on An Lar for growing tea. I hope you like it.”
Gwyneth sipped. “It’s very good,” she said.
The eldest picked up one of the cakes. “Your daughter has become one of the brightest lights I have seen in a long time,” she said. “We have been delighted she chose to study with us.”
“But I thought she was done with her studies here. She came to me yesterday and said you asked her to stay on for another year.” Gwyneth stated.
“I did indeed. It’s an honor only given to the best and brightest.” The Oldest sipped her tea, then took a bite of her cake.
“This doesn’t mean she’ll end up in the Magic Guard, does it? We do our share of military duty, my family. My son-in-law is on active duty right now. But it’s usually the men in our family. And the Magic Guard takes so much...”
The Oldest smiled slightly, having picked on her visitor’s anxiety. “No, this is not a path for that, unless she chooses it. And it’s only an obligation to one more year of deep magical studies, similar to what she’s been studying, and learning about the White Circle. After that, she’ll be free to do whatever she wants to do.”
A wave of relief passed over Lady Gwyneth. “Then perhaps there’s still hope she’ll follow the family tradition.”
“It is one of her possible choices,” the Oldest said, nodding.
Gwyneth took one of the cakes. “Children. They don’t realize how they drive us crazy until they grow up and have children of their own.”
The Oldest nodded. “And even then, sometimes the lesson doesn’t sink in well.”
Gwyneth took a bite of her cake, not even thinking that the comment might, faintly be aimed at her. “Well, when I return, I will let Arriane know she has my blessing for this internship. Maybe, when it finishes, you might put in a good word for the Alder Branches?”
“Perhaps,” the Oldest said, nodding.
Shortly after this, Gwyneth took her leave. The Oldest took out her papers, “At least that’s one less thing to worry about,” she muttered, and opened the letter the Birch had sent her.