Those who were left behind were placed under a joint command of Sallitt Hawkins and his wife, Jancis Ironside. Exactly what they would be doing had started a debate. The Murosans wanted to return to Murosa to continue to harass Aurolani troops, even though their chances of surviving were dreadful. The meckanshü wanted to head back toward Fortress Draconis—especially after learning there were other survivors there. Jullagh-tse Seegg struck a middle ground and pointed out that if they went back into Sarengul, they could help crush the Aurolani occupation army. The Sarens would then move to strike at the Aurolani, which would give them much more strength for hitting supply trains than they had now, and Sarengul would become a refuge for people fleeing the Aurolani armies.
A return to Sarengul would also mean a chance at finding Verum, and the idea of locating a lost comrade meant a lot to all assembled.
The Freemen held a meeting and discussed things. Wheatly came to Will and asked what he thought, but Will just smiled. “You’ve earned the command of this unit, Wheatly. You know their minds and their hearts. Whatever you decide, I know it will make me proud.“
Wheatly then announced that the Freemen were all for entering Sarengul and fighting the Aurolani therein. While the Murosans weren’t wholly happy with that idea, a supplemental plan to lure their pursuit into the mountains and use the byways of Sarengul to destroy them did suit.
No one found leave-taking easy. Will said good-bye to each and every one of the Freemen. Each wished him well; they each took from him a small snippet of the bloody cloth that he had wrapped around his left hand before Jilandessa healed the wound. The Freemen sewed the brown patches onto their masks, below their left eyes, which is where they would cut an orphan notch if their father was dead. He knew why they did it, but the idea that a group of hard-bitten warriors would choose to see him as some sort of father figure astounded him.
Crow had a hard time saying good-bye, too—leaving his brother and his sister-in-law, to whom he had just been introduced. The Freemen and others also made a big deal of his departure and told him to keep wearing his mask. “If you’re going to represent us before the dragons, Crow, then you have to be attired proper” was the oft-voiced sentiment.
Erlestoke had it rougher, though. He was leaving behind his squad of soldiers, without whom neither he nor the DragonCrown fragment would have escaped Fortress Draconis. The mission they had chosen to accept was one that would very likely kill them, so the good-byes they said could easily have been forever.
Toughest of all, though, seemed to be having to part from his brother. Will had been saying good-bye to Linchmere when Erlestoke came by. The elder prince’s jaw dropped in surprise, then a smile blossomed on his face. “Linchmere?”
The younger prince stiffened and blood drained from his face. “You’re alive! You’re alive.”
“Yes, very much so, and very happy to see you.” Erlestoke embraced his brother, then glanced at Will. “Why didn’t you tell me my brother was here?”
“Well, we were dealing with Dranae and everything and, you know, it’s been a long day.”
Linchmere pulled himself from his brother’s embrace and smiled. “It’s because, Highness, no one here knows who I am. To them I’m just Lindenmere, one of the Freemen.”
Erlestoke’s eyes flicked up and Will was certain he caught the knowing glances from other Freemen milling about. All of them knew who Lindenmere really was. “Well, I never would have guessed. You’ve come with them from Meredo, have you? Father must be furious.”
Linchmere shrugged. “He’ll be more surprised to see you back from the dead than to see where I’ve gotten.”
“Pity if it’s true.” Erlestoke’s smile broadened. He clearly couldn’t believe the changes that had been wrought in his brother. Though Linchmere had only been a Freeman for just over a month, he’d lost weight, made friends and earned some scars. “He won’t recognize you, that’s for certain.”
Linchmere’s return smile burned brighter than dragonflre. As the brothers embraced, Will withdrew to gather his gear for the trip. It struck him that in many ways, Linchmere had been like Dranae, only it was the crucible of war, not a bath in molten rock, that had awakened him. Likewise Kenleigh had taken on an edge. In combat he’d proven quite stalwart, but content to take orders rather than give them. That didn’t mean he didn’t exhibit leader ship capabilities. He did, very much so, but he was the sort of man who led by example instead of command or force of personality.
When next Will saw them, the brothers were laughing together. Linchmere was helping Erlestoke work on the riding harness they’d use on Dranae. Having met them separately, Will never would have guessed they were brothers, but here he could see it. Moreover, he could see they were friends.
With many promises of future drinking, feasting, and wenching being exchanged, those bound for Vael clambered onto Dranae’s broad back and nested down in the valley between his shoulders. They roped themselves into the princes’ harness and waved to their compatriots.
Will was glad the rope harness allowed him to crawl forward to wher Dranae’s neck joined his body. While the air was cold enough that Will couldn’t remain there for very long, he got to watch the landscape below. He could see the way rivers flowed from mountains down to lakes or the sea. Forests spread over the hills and plains, save where men had chopped then back to feed fuel and building material into villages and cities.
And villages and cities were easy to spot because of the rising smoke. Fron most it was from cookfires, but the flight took them near enough to Caledo to see that part of the city was burning. He hoped Alexia, Kerrigan, Peri, am Sayce were still alive, and would be able to defeat the Aurolani or escape.
“Dranae, can’t you go down there and kill the Aurolani before we go’t Vael?”
“No, Will.” The dragon hooked his neck back to watch him. “There is a chance I could be killed, and the DragonCrown fragment would then go over to Chytrine. More importantly, there is another dragon down there. My intervention could trigger a larger battle, which would be to Chytrine benefit.”
“The first reason I get, but not the other.” Will shrugged.
“In due time, Will Norrington.”
Night fell before they left Muroso. The thin sliver of moon complemented the stars and Will saw lots of them. He half expected Resolute to take the opportunity to drill him on how to navigate by the stars, but being aloft and surrounded by darkness seemed to take an edge off the Vorquelf.
He did point to one chain of stars. “That is the Flail of Raisasel. He was a grand elven hero, from Vorquellyn. Back then, Vorquellyn was just part of the elven holdings. Everything from Loquellyn to Croquellyn and Harquellyn were all part of one grand elven nation.”
Will picked out the curvy line of seven stars. “What did Raisasel do?”
“He did many wonderful things, and the songs sung about his exploits are legion. He slew dragons and fought battles with the kryalniri—the real thing, not these ghosts Chytrine has created.” Resolute actually smiled, and for half a second Will thought he might sing one of the songs of Raisasel.
Then the Vorquelf’s eyes narrowed. “Songs to entertain children who never expected to have to fight.”
The Panqui extended a claw, dug some flat white wormy thing from beneath a scale, and popped it into his mouth. “Lombo likes star-songs.”