A Banner Torn (Book 1 Complete)

Kaelid:

The stew's rich aroma still lingered in Kaelid's senses as he settled into his bedroll. His muscles ached pleasantly from the day's activities, a reminder of their successful hunt. The forest drake's image remained vivid in his mind, its sinuous body gliding between the trees with impossible grace. He'd never seen anything like it in the village woods.

Sleep came quickly despite his excitement, and morning arrived with the first birdsong and the smell of cooking porridge. The camp stirred to life around him, travelers moving with practiced efficiency to prepare for the day's journey.

"Up and moving," Marta called, nudging his shoulder. "Breakfast, then we break camp."

Rannek was already awake, helping Elthar tend the cooking fire. Kaelid joined them, accepting a bowl of steaming porridge sweetened with dried berries.

"Sleep well?" Rannek asked, his own bowl already half-empty.

"Better than I expected," Kaelid admitted. The ground had been hard beneath his bedroll, but exhaustion had overcome discomfort.

They ate quickly, then joined the organized chaos of breaking camp. Wagons were reloaded, fires extinguished, and horses harnessed under the watchful eye of Aelrik, the caravan master. By the time the sun had fully cleared the horizon, they were back on the road.

Kaelid rode with Rannek and Marta on the same wagon as yesterday, but today he paid closer attention to their surroundings. The landscape had changed overnight, farmlands giving way to denser forest and rolling hills. The road narrowed, forcing the wagons into single file at times.

"The old forest," Saelma explained when she noticed his interest. "Been here since before the kingdom. Some say the trees remember the time before humans."

"Do you believe that?" Rannek asked.

The wagon driver shrugged. "Forests keep their secrets. But I've felt eyes watching from between the trees on nights when the moon is dark. Not human eyes, nor animal either."

Marta made a dismissive sound. "Don't fill their heads with forest tales. They'll be jumping at shadows."

"No harm in a healthy respect for the old woods," Saelma replied, unperturbed. "Better cautious than careless."

The morning passed uneventfully, the caravan making steady progress along the winding road. Around midday, a shout from one of the forward guards drew everyone's attention skyward.

A trio of forest drakes circled overhead, larger than the juvenile they'd seen yesterday. Their scales gleamed copper and green in the sunlight, wing membranes stretched taut between elongated fingers as they rode the thermal currents.

"Keep moving," called Vaeldric, the guard captain. "They're just curious."

Kaelid watched, fascinated, as the drakes executed a series of aerial maneuvers that seemed part flight, part dance. They moved with coordinated precision, as if sharing a single mind.

"They're beautiful," he murmured.

"And dangerous if provoked," Marta reminded him. "Those aren't juveniles. Full-grown drakes can take down prey larger than you."

One of the drakes broke formation, diving lower to inspect the caravan. It passed directly over their wagon, close enough that Kaelid could see the intricate patterns on its scales and the intelligent gleam in its eye. For a brief moment, he felt a strange connection, as if the creature was assessing him specifically.

Then it rejoined its companions, and the trio glided away into the forest canopy.

"They'll be back," Saelma predicted. "Drakes are curious by nature. And territorial. We're passing through their hunting grounds."

She was proven right less than an hour later when the drakes reappeared, this time flying parallel to the caravan through the trees. They kept pace easily, occasionally visible through gaps in the foliage.

"They're following us," Rannek observed, excitement and nervousness mingling in his voice.

"Escorting us through their territory, more like," Saelma corrected. "Making sure we don't linger or cause trouble."

The guards remained vigilant, weapons ready but not threatening. Vaeldric rode up and down the line, ensuring everyone maintained discipline and calm.

"No sudden movements," he instructed as he passed their wagon. "No throwing things at them, no matter how curious you get. They'll lose interest eventually."

By mid-afternoon, the drakes had shifted their approach. Instead of flying alongside, they now stalked the caravan from the underbrush, occasionally visible as flashes of scale and sinew between the trees. The behavior seemed more predatory, though they made no move to attack.

"Why did they come down from the trees?" Kaelid asked Marta.

"Hunting strategy," she explained, her own hand resting casually on her bow. "They're ambush predators. Flush prey from above, then strike from ground level when it runs."

"But we're not running."

"No. And we're too large a group to attack. They're just... practicing, I suppose. Or hoping something smaller might break away from our protection."

The tension in the caravan was palpable now. Guards rode closer to the wagons, and conversation dwindled to essential communication. Even the horses seemed to sense the predatory presence, their ears flicking nervously at every rustle from the underbrush.

Kaelid found himself scanning the forest continuously, his enhanced perception allowing him to spot the drakes more frequently than others seemed to. He could almost anticipate where they would appear next, as if some subtle pattern in their movements was visible to him alone.

"There," he whispered to Rannek, pointing to a dense thicket moments before a drake slithered through it.

Rannek looked impressed. "How did you know?"

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Kaelid shrugged, unsure himself. "Just... felt right."

The road began to climb a gentle slope, the forest thinning slightly as they gained elevation. As they crested the hill, the landscape opened before them, the road descending into a broad valley with a river winding through its center.

"Boundary stone," Saelma announced, nodding toward a weathered marker beside the road. "Edge of drake territory. They rarely venture beyond."

Sure enough, as the caravan began its descent, the stalking presence faded. Kaelid caught one last glimpse of the drakes perched on a rocky outcropping, watching the travelers leave their domain. Then they were gone, melting back into the forest like living shadows.

A collective sigh of relief passed through the caravan. Conversation resumed, and the guards relaxed their vigilance slightly, though they remained professional in their duties.

"That was closer attention than they usually pay," Vaeldric commented as he rode alongside their wagon. "Something about us caught their interest."

His gaze lingered on Kaelid for a moment, thoughtful rather than suspicious, before he moved on to check the other wagons.

They made camp that evening beside the river, the wagons again forming a protective circle. After helping with the setup, Kaelid and Rannek were assigned to assist with fishing, joining a small group heading to the riverbank with poles and nets.

Jorren, the young guard who had entertained them with stories the previous night, supervised their efforts. "River's running high with the autumn rains," he observed. "Good for fishing, though. Stirs up the bottom, gets them feeding."

Within an hour, they had a respectable catch of river trout and a few larger fish Jorren called "silver backs." The guard seemed impressed by their contribution.

After another hearty meal, the caravan members again gathered around the central fire. Tonight, the conversation turned to the next day's journey, which would take them through what Aelrik called "the contested lands."

"Bandits?" someone asked.

The caravan master nodded grimly. "Possibly. Mostly deserters from the war, from what we've heard. Desperate men, but few in number and poorly organized."

"We'll double the watch tonight," Vaeldric decided. "And travel in tight formation tomorrow. No stragglers, no solo excursions."

His gaze found Marta and the boys. "That means your hunting expeditions are suspended until we're through the danger zone."

Marta nodded her understanding. "How long through the contested area?"

"Half a day if we make good time," Aelrik replied. "We'll camp on the far side, within sight of the city if the weather's clear."

The mood around the fire grew more subdued after this discussion. Stories were shared in lower voices, and laughter was more restrained. Kaelid noticed several travelers checking their weapons with extra care before retiring for the night.

As he prepared for sleep, Rannek whispered, "Do you think we'll see bandits tomorrow?"

"I hope not," Kaelid replied honestly. The excitement of potential danger had been tempered by their experience with the drakes. Real threats weren't as thrilling as imagined ones.

"But if we do," Rannek persisted, "we could help fight them off. With our... you know." He tapped his temple meaningfully.

Kaelid frowned. "Marta would never allow it. And we're not fighters, Rannek. Seeing things coming doesn't mean we know what to do about it."

"We could warn the guards, at least."

"Maybe." Kaelid wasn't convinced their abilities would make much difference against experienced bandits. And he wasn't eager to draw attention to their unusual perceptions.

Sleep came less easily that night, his mind filled with images of forest drakes and imagined bandits lurking in the shadows. When he finally drifted off, his dreams were a confused jumble of pursuit and flight, of seeing danger but being unable to avoid it.

Morning arrived with a light mist clinging to the river, shrouding the camp in ghostly white. The travelers moved with greater purpose today, breaking camp efficiently and forming up with minimal conversation. The guards checked and rechecked their weapons, their expressions serious.

Vaeldric gathered everyone for a brief address before departure. "Stay alert today," he instructed. "Keep your valuables out of sight. If we encounter trouble, let the guards handle it. Civilians stay with the wagons, no heroics."

His gaze swept over the assembled travelers, lingering briefly on Kaelid and Rannek. "Questions?"

There were none. Everyone understood the situation and their roles.

As they set out, the wagons moved in tighter formation than before, with guards positioned strategically throughout the column. Marta kept the boys close, her bow strung and ready across her lap.

"If anything happens," she told them quietly, "get down and stay down. Under the wagon bench if possible."

The road followed the river for several miles before turning eastward into more rugged terrain. Rocky outcroppings and dense thickets provided perfect ambush points, a fact not lost on anyone in the caravan. Conversation ceased entirely, everyone's attention focused on their surroundings.

Kaelid found himself scanning the landscape continuously, his senses heightened by tension. Colors seemed more vivid, sounds more distinct. He could hear the creak of leather from the guard riding thirty paces ahead, the soft jingle of harness bells from the lead wagon.

They passed through a narrow passage between two rocky hills, the wagons forced into single file. Kaelid felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, an awareness of being watched that transcended normal perception.

"Something's wrong," he whispered to Marta.

She glanced at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

Before he could explain, a shout came from the lead wagon. "Riders ahead! Six or seven, blocking the road!"

The caravan ground to a halt. Vaeldric galloped forward, signaling for the wagons to close ranks. Guards moved to defensive positions, weapons drawn.

From his position, Kaelid couldn't see the confrontation at the front of the column. But he could hear Vaeldric's voice, firm and carrying.

"Clear the road. We have no quarrel with you."

A response came, too distant to make out clearly. Then Vaeldric again "We will defend our caravan. You're outnumbered and outmatched. Walk away now."

Tense seconds passed. Then a commotion erupted at the front of the column, shouts and the clash of weapons. Almost simultaneously, figures emerged from the rocks on either side of the defile, moving toward the rear wagons.

"Ambush!" someone shouted. "They're coming from both sides!"

Marta pushed the boys down onto the wagon floor. "Stay here," she ordered, nocking an arrow to her bow. "Don't move unless I tell you to."

Kaelid's heart hammered in his chest as the sounds of fighting intensified. From his position, he could see little except the underside of the wagon bench and glimpses of movement around the caravan.

Rannek clutched his arm. "We should help," he whispered urgently.

"How? We're not fighters."

"But we can see things others can't. Maybe we can warn them about attacks they don't see coming."

Before Kaelid could respond, a rough voice called from nearby. "Out of the wagon! Now!"

Kaelid peered cautiously over the edge of the wagon bench. A man stood beside their wagon, his clothes ragged and dirty, a crude sword in his hand. His face was gaunt with hunger, his eyes desperate.

"I said out!" the man repeated, grabbing for Marta, who had turned to face a threat from the other side.

Without thinking, Kaelid launched himself from the wagon, tackling the man's legs. They went down in a tangle of limbs, the bandit's sword spinning away across the ground.

"Run!" Kaelid shouted to Rannek, struggling with the larger man.

The bandit recovered quickly, throwing Kaelid off and scrambling for his weapon. Rannek jumped from the wagon, landing on the man's back and driving him face-first into the dirt.

Marta turned at the commotion, her expression shifting from surprise to anger. "I told you to stay down!"

She had no time to say more as another bandit approached from the side. She loosed an arrow that took him in the shoulder, sending him staggering back with a howl of pain.

The first bandit had regained his feet and now faced the boys with murderous rage. He lunged forward, a knife appearing in his hand where the sword had been before.

Time seemed to slow for Kaelid. He could see the man's weight shift, the direction of the coming attack as clearly as if it had been drawn in the air. He moved instinctively, pulling Rannek aside while stepping into the man's guard.

The knife slashed out in a wild swing. But his counter-movement, learned from Brannic's training sessions, created an opening that Rannek exploited, driving his shoulder into the bandit's midsection.

The man stumbled backward, winded but still dangerous. Before he could recover, Jorren appeared behind him, the hilt of his sword connecting solidly with the bandit's temple. The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Get back in the wagon," Jorren ordered, already turning to face another threat.

Kaelid and Rannek scrambled to obey, climbing back onto the wagon bench. Only then did Kaelid notice the blood streaming from the cut on his arm, soaking his sleeve.