Matt sighed with exasperation and shook his head the way a wet dog attempts to dry itself, sending a shower of raindrops flying in every direction. After three days of cascading rain, the foul weather had grown tiresome; there was not a single soul amongst their party who was not soaking wet and chilled to the bone. Matt, to his current discomfort, had volunteered to take shifts outside with the men between his lessons. He felt that it was the least he could offer after the kindness that Nathan had shown him. By and large the soldiers had shown him nothing but acceptance and respect. His two tormenters, Klaus and Anton had been either too exhausted from the journey or else properly chastised by Gattis, to give him any guff. In their rare interactions since his first day with the group, they would merely nod to him and address him as, 'Boy,' in recognition. Fortunately, the other men were of a much kinder disposition, matching the prince whom they served.
It had been a week since Nathan had begun to teach Matt how to use his powers as a stormcrier. Because of the deluge, he had been unable to practice summoning lightning for the past few nights, but every day the Prince had Matt sit in silence in his carriage and attempt to clear his mind. While Nathan had not pushed the issue on the first day, he had not been pleased with the way Matt had summoned the sparks with his anger. The prince reminded him time after time, driving the point home into his memory as a blacksmith strikes hot iron in their quest to shape the stubborn matter to their will, that a clear mind was far superior to a clouded and angry mind. Although the task of clearing his mind proved to be a surprisingly brutal challenge, and Nathan's praise was sparse Matt's respect for the prince had only increased over the past week as he observed the interactions between his new master and the soldiers that traveled under his banner. The young nobleman always had a moment to spare for his men and in turn they were fiercely loyal to him.
The Great Plains that filled the majority of central Verden, through which Matt now traveled, differed so greatly from the crags and mountainsides that Matt had grown up around that he felt almost as if he had stepped into an alien world. The vast expanse of grass that stretched for miles before and behind the carriages held no dramatic vistas to break the scenery, nor any extreme changes in elevation to break the monotony of monochromatic waves of grass that filled their vision. The knee-high vegetation bent and whipped in the wind from the storm, rippling like an organic sea all around the carriages, rolling like silky waves away from the carefully cleared dirt road that split through the vast open expanse of the province.
At present, Matt was assisting Jahn and Paul, the two men he had first seen in Schwarzvald Forest, to free one of the mobile barracks from a patch of mud in the road. The back wheels had been sucked in by the voracious maw of wet earth, preventing the carriage from moving forward. The driver had been fearful that any attempt to drive himself free of the muck would risk the destruction of an axel, so Matt, Jahn, and Paul were tasked to pull it out by hand. They were fortunate, Matt thought, that it had been one of the empty vehicles that had become ensnared. If it had been the equipment carriage they may have been unable to dislodge it until the ground had dried out.
"Lift on three," Jahn called out. "One, two, three!" They pulled up mightily on the carriage. Matt could feel the mud sucking the wheels down, the sludge fighting to keep its prize.
"Lift harder!"
Matt strained, steadying his feet on the slick ground and feeling his thighs burn with effort. Beside him Jahn and Paul pulled with all their might, their muscled arms straining to free the wheels from the hungry earth. With a loud, squelching pop, the back wheels came free, nearly causing Matt to lose his balance from the sudden loss of fierce resistance. With a flick of the reigns the driver led the horses forward as the three men pushed, the ravenous mud clinging at their feet threatening to pull their boots from their feet with every step, until the carriage had passed over the worst of the hazard.
"It's free!" Jahn called out to the driver as they eased their grip, placing the carriage's wheel firmly upon the solid ground. The carriage rolled forward, bouncing wildly over the uneven earthen road. Mud flew from the wheels as they threw off the remnants of their prison, splattering the face and clothes of Matt and the guards. He spat a sticky black glob from his mouth and used the inside collar of his already ruined shirt to wipe his face as best as he could. The hard grains of dirt scratched across his face as he mostly succeeded in smearing the mess rather than wipe it away. He closed his eyes and raised his face to the sky, hoping that the rain would wash off what remained. He imagined he appeared as some sort of disgusting swamp creature, more dirt and grime than man; he chuckled at the thought. A pang of sadness stabbed at his heart as, not for the first time, he wished his brother was with him so that he could share his childish imaginings. The world was empty, he decided, if one did not have a trusted companion in which to share it with. For his entire life, Mark had been that companion, sharing in all of his youthful hijinks and adventures, triumphs and failures. Being as close in age as they were they had been nearly inseparable from the moment they could both walk.
"A group of carriages is approaching! I can not see them well in this cursed rain, but they look fancy. It may be a group of wealthy merchants!" One of the guards at the forefront of the caravan shouted over the wind. Matt opened his eyes and lowered his vision toward the horizon, trying to make out the newcomers through the darkness. All he could see were the small specks of light, no doubt from covered lanterns, lighting the way of this approaching group as they made their way through the storm, joining onto the main road from a southern offshoot at a pace that would lead to their convergence at the point of the two road's intersection. The carriages they hung from remained obscured by distance and gloom. During the duration of their travels, Matt had been surprised that they had not come across any other groups of travelers or bastions of civilization. The closest they had come was when Nathan had ordered the caravan to take a side road around a small town that had stood in their path for as the prince had said,
'I do not wish to make the local people uncomfortable by rolling a royal procession down their main street. No, better to keep to ourselves and circumvent the town entirely.'
Matt understood the wisdom in Nathan's words. If this town was anything like Clearfield, a visit from a member of the nobility, even a mere passing visit, would have thrown the populace into an uproar. Shopkeepers would feel pressured to offer gifts of their wares, the town leadership would wish to honor the Prince, out of respect for Nathan's position and out of a personal desire to gain the favor of someone so powerful. The party would have been delayed a day's travel at the minimum, if not more.
"Tell the drivers to stop our carriages; weapons out," Captain Gattis commanded. The message was relayed to the drivers and the carriages came to a halt. The men unsheathed their swords and took up defensive positions around the caravan. The other group was now close enough to see, but any emblem or crest they might be riding under was lost in the deep shadows of the storm.
Are they afraid they could be bandits? What bandits could have transportation as fine as that? Matt wondered. The Captain appeared strangely jumpy for what was almost certainly an ordinary encounter with another group of travelers. It was obvious that he took his duty as Captain of Prince Nathan's guard extraordinarily seriously. He was taking no chances.
Could this have something to do with the parchment that Nathan had been reading earlier in the week? Something must be terribly wrong in Verden. Dragons had attacked his home, and he was certain Prince Nathan had been reading about nothing good on that paper, despite his attempts to pass it off as a boring report. Not for the first time he wondered what had brought the Prince so far from Stormcliff. He had originally thought that he may have come to investigate reports of dragon sightings, but Nathan had been caught off guard by Matt's revelation of the dragons' return. Whatever the reason for the trip, it was much more than a royal holiday, the caravan was equipped for speed and protection, not pleasure.
"Captain! Why are we stopping?" Prince Nathan called over the wind, climbing out of his carriage and breaking Matt's train of thought.
"I must ask you to go back inside my Prince!" Captain Gattis shouted in return, "A group of carriages approaches us."
"Who do they belong to?" Nathan inquired, deftly jumping down from the top step of his vehicle. He wore a heavy woolen cloak to protect himself from the rain, but the hood sat unused upon his shoulders exposing his head to the elements.
"They are still too far to identify my Lord!" Captain Gattis replied. "For your protection, I would prefer it if you returned to your carriage." His tone was suggestive but firm.
"I am more than capable of defending myself," Nathan's eyes flashed dangerously for just a moment before returning to their normal calm. He wasn't bluffing. If he wanted, Nathan could kill dozens of regular men without breaking a sweat. His mastery over his stormcrier powers was obvious, and for the first time since he had fallen in with the group, Matt was grateful that he could count such a powerful man as a friend. He doubted he could survive long as his enemy. The Prince strode away from his carriage to stand next to his Captain, waiting for the other caravan to reach them, the driving rain soaking into his cloak as the wind whipped it around him giving him a ghostly air.
"Hail good people! Is there anything we may do to assist you?" Captain Gattis called out as soon as the other group was close enough to hear. Someone in the other group shouted something that Matt could not hear and the incoming carriages came to a stop several yards from the Prince's caravan. A lone man wearing a heavy black cloak broke ranks and approached them, with strong, purposeful steps, seemingly unperturbed by the amount of weaponry that was being aimed at his chest. He was a tall man, at least half a head taller than Matt, with broad shoulders and a confident stride.
"That's close enough!" Captain Gattis shouted at the man tightening the grip on his sword. The man strode on, either not hearing the Captain or not caring to obey. Matt squinted through the darkness as the newcomer drew ever nearer, eager to see what such a brave, or foolish, he could not decide which, man looked like. The hood of the tall man's cloak hid all but the lower half of his face, leaving a strong, beardless chin and angrily drawn lips as the only features visible. He was close enough to have seen the Royal crest on the carriages but the perfect precision in his steps never wavered. Thunder rumbled overhead, offering an ominous soundtrack to the tension of the moment, as if the gods themselves drew a morose amusement from the proceedings.
"Let me handle this," Nathan commanded, overruling Gattis' objections with a sharp glance. Matt looked on uneasily as the newcomer approached the Prince. With his barely rudimentary knowledge of his powers, there was no way he could defend Nathan if the man was hostile. He wished he had learned how to use a sword; if a fight broke out he would be as useless and ineffectual as he had been in defending his family.
Nathan stepped forward, intercepting the man just in front of the carriages. He stared defiantly at the taller man, and he at him, for several long, uncomfortable moments, neither man moving an inch while the soldiers looked on, prepared to protect their liege at the slightest provocation. The pounding deluge blanketed the unnaturally silent standoff.
A slight smile broke the new man's serious visage, "Greetings, brother." He pushed his hood back revealing shoulder-length brown hair that was plastered to his face from the rain, partially obscuring his hard, unflinching gaze. The guards, who had been readying their weapons to defend their Prince relaxed instantly; Matt could hear several of the men around him releasing pent-up breaths.
Nathan smiled broadly. "How are you, Alexander?" he asked pulling his brother in for a tight hug.
"Considering the circumstances, I am doing as best as one can," Alexander said, stepping back from his brother, raising a hand to peel several strands of hair from his face. "It is fortunate that we chanced upon you."
"Why is that?" Nathan asked, waving an unnecessary hand behind himself for his soldiers to stand down. From his position behind Nathan, Matt could only just make out the side of his young mentor's face, but he could have sworn the younger prince's smile had tightened at his brother's words the way he had only seen him react once before. Almost identical to the expression that he had worn while reading that scroll several days before.
"All in good time brother; I can answer all of your questions and more while we are on the road. That is if you do not mind our companionship to wherever it is you're going?" Alexander asked, placing an arm around his younger brother's shoulders as he pivoted to gesture towards his men.
"Of course," Nathan answered, "we are heading northeast to Riftwater. We should reach the city tomorrow afternoon."
"We shall stop here for the night then?" Alexander inquired, waving his carriages over to join his brother's caravan. Matt was surprised to notice that the elder prince traveled in a very unassuming carriage, much smaller than Nathan's, unadorned with sigils or crests of any kind. The other two carriages, for there were only three in Alexander's procession, were similarly unadorned in raiment and splendor. While the lookout had been correct in describing Alexander's collection of transportation as fancy, they were much larger and more finely crafted than the small wagon that Matt's family had owned, the vehicles paled in comparison to Nathan's procession. The cooks started as large a fire as the weather would allow, the wind whipping the flames around dangerously as the downpour of rain threatened to extinguish all but the hottest of coals, the large-bellied man strove to force his mastery over the elements, protecting the valuable flame with the wide girth of the rotund cast iron pot. Satisfied that he could keep the blaze satiated with a steady procession of fresh wood he continuously ordered several of the younger soldiers to feed the inferno, he set straight to preparing the night's stew. His assistants cast jealous glances toward their carousing compatriots as they obediently obeyed the barked commands of the outspoken man. Disregarding the gloomy weather, the rest of the men that made up the two contingents began to talk and joke loudly and familiarly. Many of the men were already acquainted through their service in the royal guard so it had taken only moments before the air was filled with raucous cheers and yells as the soldiers swapped stories. Gradually, the heavy rain subsided to a light mist, no longer much of a bother to anyone, although the harsh wind still cut straight to the bone.
"Now that this matter is settled, could we speak for a moment?" Alexander asked his brother softly, low enough that Matt could barely make out the words, motioning for his brother to follow him away from the group.
"We will not have a lesson tomorrow, but we shall continue once we reach Riftwater," Nathan said nearly as quietly to Matt. "Of course, brother," he acquiesced in a much louder voice following the elder prince out of the earshot of the guard.
Matt watched them go in silence, it still seemed like a dream to him that he had now seen both Prince Nathan and Prince Alexander. A mere week ago he would not have believed it to be possible. He had not even met the Duke of his home province, he was a simple farm boy, he did not belong in this world of princes and dragons.
"Is it true?" He heard Nathan ask from behind one of the carriages, their voices carried by the wind. The question caught Matt's attention. He knew he should not listen in to the Princes' conversation but he could not help his curiosity.
"The dukes in the East..." Alexander responded.
What are they talking about? Matt wondered, he closed his eyes and listened harder, forgoing the pretense that he was not intentionally listening.
"Are you sure?" That was Nathan.
"Without a doubt," Alexander's next sentence was muffled, but the final word seemed to ring out clear as day, as if he had spoken the word directly into his ear. "Rebellion."
His thoughts reeled at the sound of the word. Sure, he had heard many drunken farmers and townsfolk rail against the High King after they had been in their cups long enough back home in the Silver-Hand Inn. But Matt had always just assumed that the were sad and angry men, discontent with the hand that life had dealt them. He would have never believed that there was enough support of that point of view anywhere in Verden that could rise to a level of organization that could pose even a small threat to the monarchy. It felt as though the weight of the world had fallen upon his head, forcing him down with the oppressing new reality he found himself living in. Rebellion, at the same moment of the dragon's return. Was it the end times? He had heard tales of the end times his whole life, usually told by crazy old men who had nothing better to do than spin yarns about destructive futures full of fire and ruin, frequently brought about by the sins and greed of man. Until now he had scoffed at such an idea, it was utter nonsense, the world would go on forever, cycling through days and nights just as it always had. But now, he was not so sure.
"That is troubling indeed, but I'm afraid I have ill tidings of my own," Nathan replied after a pregnant pause. The rest of the conversation was too quiet for Matt to hear, but when he opened his eyes in time to see the princes striding back into view, Alexander was scowling and speaking extremely animatedly, waving his hands about like a performer. Nathan had clearly told him of the dragon's return. While Alexander's reaction would have ordinarily drawn all of his focus and attention, he could not shake that awful word from his mind. Rebellion. Could it really be true?
Matt slept fitfully that night upon the wooden floor of Nathan's carriage, his dreams troubled by dragons and war. In his sleep he was forced to relive the fight at his farm over and over again, just as he always did when he meditated with Nathan. He saw the great red dragon, Aundin, destroy his farm and his family, burning everything in his path. Matt's family died time and time again in front of his eyes while he could do nothing but stand helplessly by as a useless observer. The bright lights of their life snuffed out like candles beneath a breath. Midnight had long since passed before his dreams subsided and he fell into an uncomfortable yet dreamless sleep.
Thankfully, the heavy wind that had persisted through the night had pushed the remains of the storm further west. By the time they continued their journey in the morning leaving a bright blue sky in its wake. Fluffy white clouds floated on the far horizon, reflecting the cool morning light of autumn, casting their friendly shadows across the open road ahead. Matt gave silent thanks to whatever power, be it god or nature, had interceded with the awful weather. He was not in the mood to put up with yet another day of driving wind and rain. He yawned sleepily as he walked alongside the carriages.
"Tired?" Jahn asked, quickening his stride to draw even beside Matt.
"A little," Matt answered, wishing to avoid expanding upon that particular line of questioning.
"Rough night last night?" the soldier asked, unperturbed by Matt's brief answer. Matt turned to face his questioner, doing his best to keep his irritation buried deep within. Jahn and Paul had proven to be much more friendly than Klaus and Anton. They were good men, and he reminded himself that on most days he would have enjoyed conversing with them.
He shrugged noncommittally, "I had some trouble falling asleep." He did not have any desire to explain the nightmares and memories that had plagued him the night before. It would have been impossible to even begin his story without revealing the existence of the dragons, which Nathan had specifically ordered him to keep in strict confidence.
"The more you travel the more you'll get used to sleeping on uncomfortable ground," Jahn said good naturedly, earnestly trying to encourage Matt. He merely nodded, not bothering to correct him.
Around noon the call came from a soldier near the front of the group, "Riftwater!" Excitement buzzed through the men at the prospect of their destination. For the first time in nearly two weeks, for they had been on the road for several days before Matt had stumbled upon them. Riftwater presented an opportunity to spend more than one night in the same location, a rest from the endless walking, and the soft beds of the cities barracks.
Matt peered forward, eager to gain his first glimpse of the city. The silhouette of a large wall had sprouted up in the distance, a soft grey stain upon the horizon, seemingly growing straight up out of the grass. Above the outer wall stood the even fainter outline of an enormous castle that was somehow even taller than the stone ring of defense that sat before it. Even from such a great distance Matt could tell that it was the largest city that he had ever seen, at least ten times the size of Clearfield. He gaped in amazement.
"We should reach the wall in an hour at the most," Jahn said with a smile at Matt's awestruck appearance. Matt felt his tiredness drain away, now all he felt was excitement.