The Dragondain by Richard Due

bit of help there?”
    Tavin straightened a little, then swayed. He lifted his sword hilt high, point to the ground, and then, with the blade point hovering just inches from the scabbard, his whole arm shook again.
    Quib bore down on the handle of his whip. Tavin’s arm steadied. “Almost there, Tavvy.”
    With a violent thrust, Tavin rammed Curse home.
    Quib’s eyebrows lifted. “By the grace of the moons,” he swore softly.
    The whip unknotted itself from Tavin’s arm, fell loose to the ground, and snaked back to its owner in an oddly lifelike way. Tavin staggered, and Quib rushed forward, wrapping his arm around Tavin’s waist to steady him.
    “All righty, now. Let’s get you back home. Nice and safe-like.”
    Quib steered Tavin away from the tent, and the crowds made an opening to let them pass.
    Jasper turned to Ember. She looked much relieved, but concerned.
    “Ember, if I may call you that, I’m Jasper Winter. I’m Lily’s—”
    “I know perfectly well who you are, but now is not the time.” And she stepped away, heading for Bairne.
    Jasper ran to her side. “I have word,” he began, speaking softly, “from Barreth—from Greydor.”
    Ember seized Jasper by the arm, turned around, and half-marched half-dragged him into the small tent, closing the flaps behind her. Her eyes were suddenly animated.
    “What are you talking about? What’s happening on Barreth?”
    “Wrengfoul’s attacked—”
    “That much is obvious! How goes the battle?”
    “They’ve survived the initial assault, killing a queen scaramann in the process, but they’ve lost the tower of Fangdelve.”
    “You spoke of Greydor. Quickly!”
    “He wants to talk to you. They need riders.”
    Ember took a step back, her face looking as though she had just smelled something very unpleasant.
    “What in the moons are you talking about?” she said slowly.
    “Riders. Dainriders.” But Ember only continued to stare at Jasper as though something was wrong in his head. “He needs a group of men to ride an elite clutter of Rinn. A group of men who can think on their feet, who can use sword, bow, or lance. Can you think of any?”
    Ember’s face grew dark. She furrowed her brow, drawing a hand to her mouth.
    “He can’t be serious.”
    Jasper wasn’t certain if she was thinking aloud or talking to him, but he knew this was a moment for absolute clarity.
    “He’s completely serious.”
    Ember drew herself up to her full height and looked away, musing.
    “That won’t be easy,” she said under her breath. “It’s such bad timing.” Then she glanced down at Jasper, a new concern sparking in her eye. “Where are you staying, Cora’s?”
    “I’m not really sure.”
    “See that you do. How much longer do you plan to be on Dain?”
    “I need to leave as soon as I can.” Jasper tried his best to sound confident. He really didn’t want to go through the same conversation he’d gone through with Nimlinn, where he had to admit that he had no idea what he was doing.
    Ember nodded. “Stay in touch, Jasper.” And as she dashed from the tent, she revealed Ridley, standing just outside the flaps, trying very hard not to look awed—and failing miserably.

Chapter Five
    Annora and Bree

    T he horses moved slowly, picking each step with great care.
    Four moons hung in the night sky, casting four sets of shadows, in four distinct shades, each growing, drifting, and shrinking in time to its own maker’s movements. The tree-lined road, once designed to ferry armies, was now much reduced in capacity by the very trees which had been planted to give those armies shade. Broken, swollen, leaning at odd angles, the ancient trees had long ago invaded the lane, sending out their root systems to war with the cobblestones and reducing them to pebbles and dust.
    Four moons: that meant Dain was in the middling, with as many moons between it and the sun as behind.
    Dubb, with Luna in the saddle before him, kept close to the others, trying to catch