On the fifth day of the eighth week since their last letter, Lord Kardin grew agitated and worried at not having received word from his most beloved daughter Vorina. She, and along with his son Izaak, were the last of his kin. So when his own King informed him that Vorina was to be wed to Lord Ries of Rovan, all his days since had been filled with dread. And when the ravens didn't bring word he began to brim with despair and a rage that grew from suspicion and fear.
So on this day, the fifth day of the eighth week here in a meeting that not even his King knew of he called his warriors and his son to him.
There carved into the mountain itself the anteroom's windows overlooked the southern road and the paths which led up to the Cragged Peaks. Sharp sunlight fell on the cold stone table and the crack of the fire was the only thing that spoke as Karlin glowered out the window. Knights, bladesmen, and mystics alike, they all sat silent at the table. Then Asnil, the green eyed Knight made to rise, but Dresdon held him back and Izaak stared at him furiously in turn. When he had settled back in his chair, Izaak rose from his own seat at the end of the table.
"I will tend to this matter father, she is my sister afterall," Izaak said and stood proudly with his rand rested at the pommel of his blade.
His father shook his head. "Are you my son's warriors or mine?" he asked, glaring at his men.
"We are yours to the end," Dresden responded in turn. "To you and your family's end." Kardin flinched at the words, but Dresden continued without notice. "But Izaak is right. As his master I know there is no one better suited for such a task. And we can not deny that your son's face carries the qualities of a plain man. From the River Matal to our cragged mountains, he melds with the commoners and lords alike. He would not be noticed."
"And yet if he was caught, what then? What then, when my house is extinguished. What then when Wyra is at war with Rovan. What then will it have been for?" Kardin asked and held his hand to his face, holding up his head at the heavy misfortune that would befall. Why Gods, why this?, he thought and made to speak again. Izaak though quick to act and spiritful had gone flush and his eyes quivered as he cut in before he could talk again.
"We are already at war!", he snapped. "The king tells us brittle lies and makes feeble excuses. She writes many letters, but the Rovan move letters slow, he says. She doesn't write because the cold makes it hard to write, he says. We don't get letters because she is Rovan by law now, he says. He says these things and dares calls himself a man of Wyra. We are one of the three kingdoms of Dragon lords. He is false. He is…"
"Stop," his father said, slamming his palm against the window. "Your crude directness is not needed. You say what we know and what must not be said. Have you forgotten all. Is Dresden's recommendation for you wrong? I hope not. You are most versed to know all walls have ears."
Izaak bit his cheek and held back his raw emotion and spoke again with restraint. "Hope in what way?" he asked.
Kardin nodded, happy at his son's quick observation of his words. "I do not deny your call. I simply must know you see your fragilities and weaknesses. Now and always you see them. Or else the fury of your spirit and the rage of your heart will swallow you and lead you to failure. You can't let that happen. You must succeed in this and I know you will succeed. As long as you temper yourself. Do you understand me? You can't fail and you cannot die." I know you won't die. It's not allowed, he thought and prayed. These words were the words of all fathers and they could not see their son's deaths. He then thought remorsefully of Vorina and felt his rage return and he cursed all his misery.
Izaak stood for a moment and stared out the window, absorbing his fathers words. There on the southern road he could see the crawl of caravans like ants as they wound their way up into the mountains and into the city that scraped the sky. A land that had once been the home of Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns alike. Beasts that, they, the Wyran people had conquered and used to build one of the the three dragon lord empires. Such days were gone now and they were nothing but mountain people living upon the bones and ruins of legends. Only one but three of the empires remained with the power of the scaled beasts and even they were slowly fading. Izaak bit his tongue and met his fathers eyes.
"I know this is my quest. I have felt it and I've seen it in my dreams. Task me with this and I will return Vorina without incident or incident which is justified by the gods. Upon my heart I know that Riese is foul. I hear the tales and rumours and despite what Syra may say he cannot deny our customs even as King. Those who mistreat a descendent of the dragon Iskali are our enemy. My emotions are tempered and put me in the field and nothing clouds my mind. In these rooms I am stifled but out there I am the best. Dresden does speak true, and I do recognize my weakness. I fail at council but there is no one better for the tasks that need to be done once these meetings are commenced. Misery will befall our enemies but not me. Have that faith in me father."
His father raised an eyebrow and wanted to tell all but such things were pointless now. He wanted to send Dreseden or Ansil. Even he was tempted to go, as foolish and strange his absence would be if he did. It would be a waste though, for Izaak would go no matter what. No matter what words were said and what actions could be done it would push him to go. So he had decided weeks before that he could not fight it. He could only hope that support, faith, would be enough and even then he did not know what would happen. It wasn't meant for him to know. For the gods were cruel that way.
"I have nothing but trust for you. As does it seems everyone else here does, as they have all seemed to disregard my request and honored you to take on the task." He looked at the men at the table and they looked sheepish in turn. Ansil held his gaze though and nodded. And Dresden, already spoken his mind, stared at him unashamedly but still with a form of humbleness for his lord.
"You will not go through this task alone though. Dresden will take you to the docks and you will travel with you until the come out at the port of the Three Tails. After which you will meet Ansil who will accompany you to the Eastern borders of Rovan. After which it will be up to you."
At these words, Izaak, like any Lord's man would, went to his knees and bowed his head towards his father. "For Iskali and the First Flame I give my blood to her. By the land of Wyra, I pledge my service to its people. And in death I pledge my soul, now and until the end." With this oath he presented his sword to his father, who took it and with one swift motion left a shallow slash against Izaak's face. As the first drops of blood fell, the other members of the council rose and bowed their heads as they placed a single hand to their eyes.
Kardin's voice was coarse as he completed the oath and he knew within his heart that the worse was to come but he said the words without faltering.
"And I the blood of Iskali and a lord of the Peaks, give your blood to her. I accept your service and gladly take your soul when your time comes."
The walls have ears, that's what his father had said. So they, he and Ansil, had left by horse and rode along the southern road. While Dresden traveled westward with the priest of Kardith who had a head of brown hair that was not so long or short, a medium build, and common eyes of brown. Izaak thought of this priest and wondered what horrible things might happen if he were caught masquerading as him. He scratched his head as he thought of this and tried to brush away the cut hairs that still stuck to his now shaved sides. The guise needed only fool for a bit. By the time anyone was wise who they had seen, his hair would be back and he would be in a place that none knew him by sight.
Even Ansil had cut his hair. His long gold locks and curly yellow were gone and now he had a single braid on the top of his head and clean shaven face. His green eyes were now even more pronounced and bright as they stood out against his grey robes. Together the two looked like the pilgrims of the high peaks who sought the shrines of their winged gods.
For days they traveled over the seemingly endless valleys of the Cragged Peaks and stayed only in the bigger towns and villages that saw more travellers, and were less likely to remember all that passed through. After ten days they arrived in the port city where by boat they left.
As they sailed out he remembered his fathers last words before he and Asnil stole away into the night. "I am sorry you had to take this burden, but I know there is one else to be trusted with it. I always knew it would be you to do it. Save your sister and Iskali guide you." his father said and the words caught in his throat as he spoke of his daughter.
"I will find her" Izaak promised, "she will not die while I live," but he felt ashamed at his words for he had already seen her death. His dreams were always true.