Quoted
by: Sradith- the god of fire and fury
Rain
beat upon the ground as if it were full of anger, full of fury and malicious
contempt for the very earth it provided with life giving water. Large droplets
poured relentlessly from the early morning sky, falling unto the lone figure of
Queen Disandra of Trinamear. Queen Disandra stood at the edge of a cliff
overlooking the harbor of Glind, capital of Trinamear, which in turn bordered
the vast Sea of Trinamear.
Disandra
stood silent, her shimmering silver dress blowing viciously in the wind as she
watched the ships begin their departure from the docks far below her feet.
Sailing forward towards the horizon, sailing forward to meet the Mastral on
their own soil, forward to war.
Golden
strands of dampened hair lashed at Disandra’s face, creating a tangled mess,
her tears mixing with the rain in a salty flow of despair. The weather treated
her with the same indifference as the gods, brutal and relentless in the chaos
and turmoil, her insides reflected in the outside world around her. Honey brown
eyes dark and red, like that of a dying star. Her mind ran wild with thoughts
of death and despair, nothing preventing the taking of that last step to a
plunge into the churning waters far below. Nothing, except the pure love for
her husband, her king, the leader of Trinamear.
Watching his ship slip farther away, a shrinking spot among the hundreds
swarming out of the harbor and into the turbulent ocean swells her fair skin
flushed with the utter helplessness. Thousands of men followed her husband to
war, a war that none of them asked for, a war that would not end until the
final Mastral warlord had fallen upon a sword. Their fear of the Mastral Empire
turning to hatred and pure will power to achieve final freedom from the clouds
of darkness that had strangled Trinamear for so long.
Queen Disandra dropped to her knees, oblivious to the mud and water
staining her dress, feeling not the cold hard waters beating down upon her.
Mastral forces would fall, though her husband would stand tall and victorious,
she would do everything in her power to see this done.
Disandra ran her hand in the muddy ground, drawing several strange
symbols, when she seemed satisfied with her mucky work, she began to sing.
“Gone away were they.
Fighting for their home and land.
Weeping on thy hill side, that is where she lay.
Gone away were they.
Their family's standing on their own.
Goodbye they cried to their lives in Trinamear.
Thy drums beat out that sorrowful sound.
Into the storm they charge.
With swords drawn and spirits flying through the night.
Come home, come home oh' thy maiden she calls,
Come along thy way home
Gone away were they to fight for their own
Gods be a flying with them
Thy maiden she calls
Come along home my soldier.”
Disandra’s tears had dried, as had the wicked wind and lashing rain,
sunlight filtered through the clouds with great shafts of light. One, or more
of the gods had heard her song, she knew that at least someone who ruled over
men had been listening to her cry.
Disandra had tried every method she could think of to keep her husband
from leading the war from the front. She had approached him several times,
begging and pleading with the King mostly, about letting the very capable
generals lead the massive force to take the war to the enemy. Nothing swayed
the man, Disandra understood that as the leader of a failing nation, her
husband must take drastic measures to rally the entire country for a final push
to end the war.
Most soldiers who had went into this war with Mastral never returned,
those that did were often maimed or invalid to the end of their lives. Her eyes
never noticed the dragons performing their own ceremony for the departing
ships, neither did she notice the pure silence that now blanketed those far
below who had come to see off their loved ones. Queen Disandra kept her watch on
the vessel commanded by the King, her husband.
King Te’vor stood near the helm of the Trinamearan war ship, his eyes
trained on the lone figure barely discernable upon the cliff overlooking Glind
Harbor. Rain pelted the immaculately white uniform, his epaulets turned a dull
golden brown, his normally light hair became dark and dampened. Te’vor’s
thoughts drifted slightly from the rolling ship beneath his feet, his bright
blue eyes brightened with thoughts flying far from the present.
Disandra, her silky flowing golden hair, her smooth skin that was as
light as fresh snow laying over the fields of Trinamear’s North province. Try
as she had, he could not stay in the capitals relative safety while more of his
countrymen sailed forth into this unforgiving war of aggression the Mastral
nation had begun two hundred years earlier.
Te’vor thought of his queen’s eyes, the color of fresh honey shining in a
midday sun, such captivating beauty. Her voice, more entrancing than that of a
sirens song, his half goddess.
Disandra was born of the goddess Lanstinia, who ruled over beauty, hope,
and peace. Legend told that Lanstinia could take human form once every thousand
years, and only for a period of ten years. During her last taking of the human
form, Lanstinia fell deeply in love with a mortal man near the end of her ten
years. From that love came Disandra, though her birth took place only a month
before Lanstinia returned to her full goddess form.
How lucky, Te’vor thought to himself as he watched the receding harbor of
Glind.
Men moved around the ship with purpose and swiftness, tying lines and
securing loose items on the deck in response to the heavy swells and strong
winds. None of the work distracted the king’s vigil of his homeland and his
wife, who he suspected was the figure on the cliff.
Without warning, Te’vor’s mind jumped away from the comforting thoughts
of his wife. His mind’s eye swiveled to the memory of his father’s death at the
point of a Mastral assassin’s blade. It was that day, nine years prior, that
Te’vor devoted his life to becoming the best soldier and leader that Trinamear
could produce.
Memories of his training poured into his thoughts, the endless days of
nearly crawling into bed with wounds so severe that his personal physicians
warned of permanent damage. Nights of freezing temperature training in the
North, melting in the Southern Desert of Trinamear, going hungry and thirsty
for days and sometimes weeks to toughen his endurance.
With the death of his father, Te’vor vowed to end this pointless war, he
vowed that nothing would stop him from defeating the evil of the Mastral
nation. Disandra understood, though did not agree with his method, she
preferred the traditional way of war. Let those born into the war class fight
the battles and defend the land.
Looking over his shoulder at the men busy about the ship, and looking out
at the hundreds of other ships falling into formation around his vessel, Te’vor
knew in his heart that this was the only way to end the war. Direct and
decisive action, with himself on the front line from the beginning to the end.
Of course, the neutral nation of Alistra was sending a few of their
newest and most advanced ships and weaponry to assist, if indirectly, in
Trinamear’s final push to end the war. That would be quite helpful, although
Te’vor wished that they would mobilize their entire military force for a
bi-lateral front against the Mastral.
Te’vor shook his head to clear the clutter filling it, his eyes focused
once more on the lone figure upon the cliff. Even against the storm blackened
sky he could still make out the small silhouette of what he knew was Disandra.
A feeling of calm overtook him and his mind cleared, then carried by the wind,
a song arose.
With the first words, the dragons that had been on the beaches of Glind
to see the ships departure took flight. As the song swelled like the sea, the
sea itself calmed, the winds slowed.
Great blasts of flame shot forth from the climbing dragons, their bodies
flowing through the air in a display of grand color shifting beauty and raw
power. Every man on the ships ceased moving and all turned to watch the awesome
show from the Guardians of Trinamear, all listened to the entrancing song
flowing all around their vessels of war.
Te’vor knew in his soul, his wife, his queen, his true love was singing
to the gods for these men, for him. He knew the dragons were showing their
prayer with the incredible air display, they could not voice themselves
directly to humans so they would often use body language to pass on meaning.
As the song drifted gently to a close, and the dragons glided back to the
sandy beaches, Te’vor found himself steadied in mind and heart. The storm
seemed to have vanished and the seas were calmed. War, the coming tumultuous
human storm, none were truly ready, though Te’vor felt that his wife and the
dragons had just cast every possible prayer for success. He turned around and
faced away from Trinamear, away from his life, Te’vor faced the direction of
Mastral, faced his destiny.
Fravien, the leader of the Guardians of Trinamear, had led the flight of
dragons, he had not intended to make such a show, nor had he intended to send
the powerful prayer for the departing soldiers. Disandra’s song prayer seemed
to have pulled his massive silver body from its place upon the beach and into
the turbulent skies above the harbor. All others had followed his flight, they
silently formed their flight to reflect the Queen’s prayer intent in the dragon
fashion.
Power had flowed pure and easily through Fravien and his entire fellow
dragons, some blasted the energy outward in a fiery display. Quickly, the
prayer altered the early morning storm and calmed the rough seas far below.
Fravien felt the gods acknowledge the prayer, when the last note of the prayer
song faded away he and the others descended back to the beach.
“Fravien, did you feel the power?” Ulatra, Fravien’s breed wife, asked.
“Yes, the power is with those men and their purpose. I only wish the gods
would grant us the permission to follow such brave soldiers into this war.”
Fravien shifted closer to his mate as he telepathically spoke with her, he
loved her emerald colored scales and the warmth of love she always emanated
towards him.
“Dearest Fravien, you know that we must remain bound to the land of
Trinamear, it is the decree of the gods.”
Fravien remained silent for a few moments while he formed his response
carefully.
“What of that decree, it is thousands of years old. We, the longest lived
of the races, do not even remember why this god law was placed upon our heads.
Does it not imply that if the humans of Trinamear feel the need to leave the
land to protect it, should we not also?” Fravien often pondered with Ulatra
about such things.
Ulatra knew where this line of discussion would lead, as it always led to
the same frustration for Fravien.
“No, we have discussed this countless time, love.” Ulatra nuzzled
Fravien’s long neck. “The gods wish us to remain with the land, we are
eternally tied to this place, what comes of Trinamear men who have left the
land is out of our ability to influence. It would take the Great Council to ask
the gods for a change in the decree.”
As Ulatra had foresaw, Fravien ruffled his scales in an outward show of
his inward frustration with the utter inability to help the people he so dearly
cared for. Fravien was not alone, most Trinamearan dragons had begun to
question the old way of the decree, many spoke of approaching the ancient
council on the matter, though none found the courage to do so.
Fravien watched the ships sail farther and farther out to sea, his heart
yearned to join those men. Mastral attacks on the soil of Trinamear had ravaged
dragon kind more savagely than it had the humans. Guardians of Trinamear had
endured such heavy losses to the Mastral Dragon Offensive twenty years before,
that only a few hundred survived and many were so injured that growing the
population had become nearly impossible.
Ulatra was unable to bear offspring due to injuries sustained during the
offensive, she and all but ten or so fledglings who only last year reached
maturity.
“I do not wish to be one of the last Guardians. We must find a way to
approach the council and get the gods to release us from this hold.” Fravien
slumped further down into the warming sand, his massive lower jaw jutting out
into the surf.
“What of the captured dragons, they are enslaved to be work horses for
the Mastral scum? What will become of them if these men fail in this war?
Should we not be allowed to aid our own brothers and sisters?” a slender tendril
of smoke rose from Fravien’s muzzle as he spoke distant thoughts to Ulatra.
“Worry not, we will seek the answers. Now just rest, enjoy the morning
sun and we shall talk later.” Ulatra unfurled her left wing and rested it over
Fravien’s massive back, it covered only a quarter of his hide.
Ulatra spoke no more, her heart had begun to show her the truth of
Fravien’s words, she knew what must be done, and she would bring her mate to
the doorstep of fate to do what most considered impossible. They, Fravien and
Ulatra, would make the perilous journey to the Farouth Mountain. There, the
Great Council could be found.
Disandra slowly rose from her kneeling, her prayer song had been answered
by someone. She stood tall and straight, looking for her husband’s ship once
more, at long last she spoke one last word of prayer.
“Home.”
Nevra, Disandra’s white wolf familiar, rose form a sitting position and
trotted up to the Queen.
“We must go your majesty, we will be late for the opening of departure
festivities.”
Nevra had been with Queen Disandra since birth, all half gods and
goddess’ were given a familiar. Familiars were lifelong companions and guides,
Nevra was more than that for Disandra.
“Nevra, how can the Queen be late to a festival she created?” Disandra
grinned.
“I suppose you are right, besides, your song prayer probably has most of
those on the beach still stunned, not to mention the dragons display.” Nevra
showed her large fangs in what Disandra knew to be a smile, others would have
said snarl.
The two walked away from the cliff, both glancing over their shoulder to
peer at the departing armada once more. They walked slowly through a small
patch of trees and down a damp path towards Disandra’s waiting carriage. As
they climbed into the back of the carriage the driver started up the steam
engine. Noise from the boiler always made Nevra slightly edgy.
“I do wish that we could get one of the Engineers Guild factions to consider
quieting these contraptions.” Nevra said as her fur bristled slightly. “I do
not understand quite how these blasted things work anyway, the gods gave us…”
A lurch of the carriage knocked Nevra off her paws and she slumped
grumpily to the floor of the machine. Disandra smirked, she had tried many
times to Nevra that humans could not achieve the same speeds as other creatures
without mechanical aid. Nevra did not seem to care if a person could get
somewhere quickly or not, yet she was always complaining of people being late.
Disandra watched the gorgeous city through the carriage window. Tall
towers of shimmering white and gold poked up from the shorter rooftops of homes
and shops. People, who looked like little figurines from the height of the
cliff, moved about in chaotic fashion. Many were pouring back into the city
from the beach where they had been witnessing the departure of the war ships.
Early morning light created little mist spots in the city below, Disandra
loved looking at the city from this vantage from time to time. It always seemed
to remind her how small and insignificant an individual alone truly was.
Together, her people could achieve anything that they were to put their hearts
and minds to.
Rattling and bumping along, the carriage approached the outer gates of
the city. A few small homes and farms hugged the city walls, the owners and
workers of the farms were already out and about, performing work with animals,
tending to the fields, and a few simply strolling along observing nothing in
particular.
When the driver slowed for the gate, a bent beggar approached the window
nearest Disandra. Smelling of sweat and urine, the beggar reached out to grasp
the edge of the window to pull himself up. Nevra began to growl loudly, she
raised up the instant the carriage came to a complete halt. Gate guards saw the
beggar and approached quickly, they knew the occupants of the steam carriage
and knew the danger the beggar could present.
Disandra reached out to Nevra and stayed her, she also put her hand
quickly out the window to stop the guard from coming closer. In a flash, the
hand of the beggar whipped up and grasped the Queen’s wrist. Disandra became
instantly confused, she looked down at the beggar’s face, it was covered in
dirt and grime, yet the eyes shown a deep violet color.
At that moment she knew what was happening, the beggar was a Mastral High
Assassin, fear froze Disandra. Glinting in the early morning light, a blade
appeared in the free hand of the assassin, with a deft flick of the wrist a
small cut appeared on the hand held by the fiend.
Nevra sensed the reality of the situation and lunged through the window to
dislodge the attacker, at the same moment that guards rushed forward to assist
the familiar. Disandra began to feel feint and disoriented, her wrist was
released, though she was unaware. A sensation of falling overcame her and she
plunged into a world of silence and pure emptiness.
Nevra continued to attack the assassin, she bit at the throat and face
repeatedly, suddenly she felt in her soul that Disandra was slipping from this
world. Guards had reached them and grabbed the attacker, Nevra jumped back into
the carriage and looked Disandra over quickly. She noticed the small cut on her
hand.
“Guards!” Nevra barked out.
A captain of the guard opened the door and pulled himself in, he looked
at where Nevra was pointing with her snout. He reached into a pouch lashed to
his belt and pulled out a small vial of bright green liquid. With sure hands
and quick movement, the captain pulled out the stopper on the vial and expertly
applied it to the cut on the Queen’s hand, without letting the hand go from his
own he then poured the rest of the vials contents into the unconscious Queens
mouth. He then proceeded to massage her throat until he knew the liquid had
been swallowed.
“Nevra, hold her hand gently, I must go attend to the assassin.” The
captain stepped out from the carriage and instructed the driver to go directly
to the palace and get the healers to attend the Queen with all haste. He also
told the man what type of poison he suspected and what to tell the healers.
When the carriage had sped off down the road and into the city, the
captain of the guard turned and approached the group of men struggling to
restrain the beggar in disguise.
“Who are you?” the captain shouted at the disgusting figure.
All the struggling ceased, and the hood fell back to reveal the true
nature of the criminal, a Blood Oath. A hybrid creature, half human, half demon.
Dark skin that smelled fetid, eyes that shown dark violet in the day and
a burning orange during night. Hair, wispy and thin to the point of looking
sickly, though the creature held before the captain was anything but sickly, it
could rip them apart if it truly had the mind to do so.
Knowing the immediate danger to his men, captain Hrada pulled a second
item from his belt pouch and flung it upon the beast. Shrill hissing and
screaming issued from the damned being, little flashes of flame licked at its
skin from contact with the metal shavings.
Hrada grabbed for his restraining cuffs, though just a moment to late,
the creature wrenched itself free of the guard’s grasp and launched itself into
the captain. One second of pain like nothing he had ever felt, followed by
death, the captain was torn to pieces in an instant. The rest of the guard was
helpless as the creature flashed out of sight so quickly that it might never
have existed, except for the bloodied remains of captain Hrada’s body strewn
about their feet as witness.
One young guard shook himself free of the sheer terror of the event and
rushed to sound the alarm and close the gate, he knew that it would do no good
in keeping the Blood Oath from the city, he only did what he had trained to do.
As the alarm began to sound across the entire city and all entrance and exit
points were sealed, the carriage arrived at the palace.
Aboard the steam powered war ship, Te’vor heard the far off sound of
Glind’s city alarm bells. Gerish, Trinamear’s Navy Commander, came at a trot
down the deck, coming to a sliding stop and nearly bumping Te’vor.
“Sir, should I have the ships turn back?” Gerish uncharacteristically
asked in a nervous tone.
“No, we must continue on. Besides, I can tell from the pattern of the bells
that it is not a Mastral attack. No, it is some sort of isolated incident, they
will be sealing the city to catch a murderer.” Te’vor knew his city, and
country, better than any man alive.
“Yes sir.” Commander Gerish saluted smartly and then stood at ease beside
King Te’vor.
“You seem quite out of sorts, Gerish, why don’t we walk the deck and talk
for a bit?” Te’vor offered, he must get Gerish to ease down or the men would
notice and rumors would spread like wildfire. They were not even two hours out
to sea and already things seemed to be going slightly off.
“Yes, your majesty, I would like to discuss a few things with you if I
may?” they began walking along the outer rail surrounding the deck, the men
working there wisely giving them privacy.
“Go ahead,” Te’vor encouraged.
“Well, you see, I would like to ask you if you think that our force is
large enough to even make it off the beach when we land on Mastral territory?
You understand that I am not questioning you, I only question the number that
we were able to muster for this offensive force.” As Commander Gerish spoke,
his voice calmed ever so slightly.
“To be honest, Gerish, no. We do not have the number of men to achieve an
overwhelming push from a beach head.” Gerish turned pale, so Te’vor continued
quickly. “We do, however, have a trick or two sailing to meet up with us.
Alistra may not be interested in mobilizing their forces to take this war to
the Mastral but, they are sending a few special ships and other weapons to aid
us in achieving a sustained invasion.”
Salty ocean spray washed over their feet as the ship rolled heavily with
a small wave, the smell seemed to pick up Gerish’s spirit.
“I do like to hear that we will be given some assistance by Alistra, even
a small token force of from them will be a huge boost for the men.”
Gerish stopped walking and leaned against the rail.
“Sir, I also wanted to ask you about the rumor that some of the captured
dragons are going to be used to fight, have there been any reports to
substantiate these claims?” Gerish had regained his full composure.
Te’vor looked the commander over carefully, his sand colored hair was
neatly cropped, his sea grey eyes were clear and focused, his white dress
uniform was freshly laundered and pressed. Even the paleness from a moment ago
had gone and the dark tanned seaman’s skin glowed with the morning sun.
“I do not have any valid reports from our spies in Mastral to back this
claim. Personally, they would have to use serious dark magic to overcome the
dragons will power alone.”
Gerish faced the King, his stance becoming that of a soldier.
“Your Majesty, thank you for your personal time,” he snapped another
salute.
“Feel free to come to me anytime, Gerish, you are a loyal friend and
respected commander, I will always have time for personal conversations with
you.” Te’vor saluted the commander.
Gerish turned away and walked towards the helm, stopping every so often
to talk with the sailors on deck. Te’vor watched Gerish for a few moments and
then continued his walk around the deck. Letting his mind drift in the ocean of
memory, he started to think of his father.
“Te’vor, listen to me son, they are coming for us. You must take your
mother and run.” Kerdvi, Te’vor’s father calmly instructed his son.
“No, I must stand and fight with you. These Mastral must be taught a
lesson, I want to fight by your side, father.” Tears were rolling down Te’vor’s
cheeks. He knew that his father would not allow this.
“Son, you do not have the time to argue, go with your mother and protect
her. I will catch up with you along the trail, now go!” His fathers shouted
command stung almost as much as the slap that came with it.
Te’vor turned and ran to the concealed door behind the thrones of his
mother and father, the noise of battle ringing loudly in the grand hall made of
polished stone. Only tapestries decorated the walls of the hall, the thrones
the only objects, they were carved directly from the same stone that made the
hall. When Te’vor reached the hidden passageway behind the thrones he turned to
look back at his father once more.
Kerdvi had turned to face the massive doors at the entrance to the hall,
Te’vor could hear the ramming against them. Within seconds the great wooden
doors splintered and then exploded from their hinges. Kerdvi ducked as a huge
chunk of the wood flew only inches above his head and imbedded itself into the
floor only a few feet from where Te’vor stood hidden.
Soldiers rushed in with swords drawn and bows drawn, Kerdvi lunged at the
nearest soldier, his great sword crashing into the man and splitting his skull.
One of the archers unleashed an arrow, Kerdvi swiveled impossibly fast and the
projectile clattered to the floor of the chamber.
King Kerdvi swung his sword around and slashed the archer’s chest open to
the heart, blood spewed into the king’s eyes, that was the moment.
Te’vor watched with silent horror as a Blood Oath stepped right up his
father and plunged a blade clean through his chest. There was no dramatic fight
or struggle, his father had simply fallen backward, off the assassin’s sword.
Dead, that was it, Te’vor did not cry any longer, in that moment his heart
hardened and his decision to see the end of Mastral.
Sudden spray from the salty water
brought Te’vor back from his memories, he wiped his wet face and smiled. Even
though his father was long passed to the realm of the dead, Te’vor could feel
his approval and guidance. No matter the challenge, the Trinamearan people would
prevail and overcome the Mastral forces once and for all. Te’vor had never felt
as positive in the face of such a task as he did at that moment, standing at
the rail of a war ship and watching the waves roll in an endless blanket of
possibility.
Disandra felt herself drifting
upward, almost the feeling of floating in warm water, her stomach heaved. Vomit
spewed over a healer who had turned the Queens head just in time to keep her
from choking on the puke. Ever the professional, the healer simply held on and
let Disandra empty her stomach of the foul liquid.
Nevra sat nearby, her soul connection
with Disandra strengthening with every passing moment, yet there was something
new and strange with the connection. Disandra and Nevra had held a soul connection
from the moment that they were born into this world, so any change was quickly
picked up by both, though Nevra knew that Disandra was quite unaware of
anything around her at the time.
Healer Iho explained, when they had
first arrived in the emergency ward, that the poison used in the attempt on the
Queens life was a common poison that any apprentice chemist could whip up out
of common household stuffs. Side effects were usually death, the swift actions
of the guard captain had drawn most of the poison out of Disandra. She would experience
severe vomiting, as the healer still holding her head could attest to, and
confusion for some time.
Nevra stood and walked over to the
lead healer to discuss this change in the soul connection that she had just felt.
“Iho, may I speak with you a moment.”
Iho set down her quill and turned in her seat to look at Nevra.
“Of course, I do need to finish this
report, though it can wait a bit.” Nevra always felt at ease when speaking with
Iho, so she dove right in.
“Our soul connection, Disandra’s and
mine, it has shifted. I felt it the moment she awoke, I do not understand what
has changed. Are you absolutely sure that the poison will not have some
permanent or long-lasting effects that could damage our connection to each
other?” Nevra could not keep the pensive tone from her voice as she voiced her
concern to Iho.
Iho did not expect this type of
concern to come up, she knew that Nevra and the Queen had a soul connection,
something that she understood very little about. She thought for a moment and
considered the possibilities with her limited knowledge on the subject. Iho
glanced over at the small team of healers helping clean the vomit off Disandra,
looked once more at the wolf and made a choice.
“Nevra, I do not like to be made a
liar from lack of knowledge on a subject that pertains to the health and
wellbeing of any of my patients. So, if you could place trust in me and my
subordinates, I ask that you come with me to consult with a far more
knowledgeable person on this query of your.” She caught Nevra’s extended eyeing
of her healers that tended the Queen.
“Trust in me, they will do her only
good, you have done all you can for moment, let us go and find an answer to
your question.”
Nevra reluctantly turned and followed
Iho out of the operating room and into a grand hallway. Turning to the right, a
direction leading deeper into the palace grounds, beautiful midday light
spilled through massive open windows all along both sides of the hallway.
Brilliant, red and gold window sashes swayed gently on the warm breeze that
passed from window to window, carrying the sweet scent of cherry blossoms.
Nevra loved coming to the healer’s section of the palace, always fresh air and
clean smells, sometimes it had the hint of death, but that appealed to Nevra’s
more primal nature.
Iho did not think that small talk
would suffice the familiar when her mind was so tumultuous from the nearly
tragic event just passed.
“I do not feel that you will gain any
comfort from idle chat, Nevra. I would like to ask you to describe, as best you
can, the soul connection change. It will be most helpful to be able to
precisely tell the healer we are going to see what you experienced when
Disandra began to regain consciousness.”
Nevra turned a corner which led the
two of them out into a massive closed courtyard, trees of all types, along with
exotic species of animal and plant life abounded in the gigantic enclosure, the
smells momentarily distracted Nevra.
“Well, I have to say that there was
what felt like an extra weight on connection, like someone extra was trying to
share it with us. We have always had each other and only that, so when I say it
felt like sharing the connection, I mean to say that it felt the same…. Just
that there was a new one added onto the old. Does this make any sense at all to
you?” Nevra felt as if she were just babbling on about nothing.
“I understand your meaning, I just do
not understand what could be causing this. Was it a sensation that lasted, or
was it fleeting?” Iho looked at the familiar with inquisitive eyes.
“I feel it even now, as we walk, ever
since Disandra left the gates of the afterworld this feeling has been with us.”
Nevra felt the extra weight as though it were a physical pressure in her chest.
Iho did not ask for anything more,
she had a suspicion that what Nevra was describing could be either good or bad.
She simply did not have that type of training and education to delve into the
field of familiar soul connections.
Nature ran free within the confines
of the courtyard, it was a great testament to the wonders that the world had to
offer. Iho pondered upon the aspects of nature that she could touch and see,
she had never focused on the ones that she could not. This did not make her any
less of a believer in the real implications of such things, it just made her
unable to access whether this soul connection change would have any effects on
the physical health of the Queen and her familiar, neither of which was she
prepared to face without seeking assistance and more knowledge.
Nevra let her mind wander to the
scents of the large courtyard all around her, she picked up smells that no
human would ever be able to appreciate. Like the smell of the live tree roots
slowly growing through the soil, or the scent of bees winging from flower to
flower in a tranquil mixture of grand smells and sounds. Even the sweet smell
of Iho’s light sweat brought a light and cheerful feeling to the wolf, no
matter what they would make sure that Disandra recovered fully from the earlier
attack on her life.
Near the far side from where they had
entered Iho turned Nevra into a thicket of trees and shrubs. The two of them
pushed and pulled until after a minute of hard work they emerged into a
miniature clearing with a single, empty, stone doorway. Nevra smelled strong
ozone coming from the general area of the door.
“Do not worry, it is simply a device
to keep unwanted intruders out. This healer is not well known and does have
quite the flair for the dramatic for those that do end up seeking him out.
Nothing to fear here, except for some odd eccentricities of an old wise man.”
An almost youthful smirk crossed Iho’s face as she stepped through the empty
stone doorway and did not reappear on the other side. Nevra did not like going
through such magic passages, they sometimes had a way of cutting off her
connection with Disandra. After the attack earlier in the morning, Nevra was
reluctant to step through, Iho’s disembodied head popped back through causing
Nevra to jump.
“Do not do that!” Nevra barked
angrily at the head of Iho.
“Ha, ha, that is funny, I do
apologize for startling you. You really are a sight to see when surprised
though, it is not often that one sees a familiar get jumpy.” Iho had a great
sense of humor when the moment presented itself, even if the timing was always
a little off.
“I am coming healer, just back away
from the doorway and let through.” Nevra nosed her way through the stones and
into a dimly lit foyer area. “I just didn’t want to bump you is all, that is
why I jumped back.”
Iho did not comment on the
defensiveness or push the matter, she surveyed the poorly lit entrance area to
what was obviously a scholar’s home of many, many, years. Nevra was sniffing
the musty air, picking up on every scent that the home held. Musty pages that
had not seen light in centuries, mold and book worms ruled nearly every
available surface. Nevra was unable to decipher the scent of the healer that
they were here to talk with, her nerves strayed a little further.
Iho took a few moments longer to let
her eyes adjust to the dimness in the entryway before she carefully began
picking her way through the piles of books, scrolls, and loose sheaves of
papers laying everywhere that could possibly be placed. Nevra followed at a
little distance, she needed to be prepared for anything, the attempt on Queen
Disandra earlier that morning had shown her just how desperate the current
situation in Trinamear had become.
Iho reached the first doorway, it
stood to their left, she reached for the doorknob and received a shock.
“Ow, damn. Don’t touch that door, it
just zapped me.” Iho stuck her fingers under the sleeve of her healer robes and
rubbed vigorously.
Nevra chuckled lightly, Iho shot her
a grumpy look. Nevra smelled the ozone before Iho had even looked at the door,
she thought it was a fair trade for the shock Iho had just pulled on her.
Iho turned from the door and looked
down the hall, towards the back of the house, she saw three more doors and
stairs at the end. She was not looking forward to testing every door along the
way, yet there was nothing to do except try them all until they found the
reclusive scholar.
Fravien slept for only a short while
when he awoke abruptly from the sound of the city alarms ringing out. Instantly
thirty dragons took to the skies and began circling the city walls, their
enhanced vision picking out every suspicious activity. Fravien swooped down
into the center of the city near the palace guard’s quarters.
A tall, handsome soldier, that
Fravien recognized as Inder, rushed from a small group of palace officers
holding a hurried meeting on the drill field.
Fravien lowered his head so the
soldier could communicate with his words.
“The Queen, she has been attacked at
the South Gate, we do not know her condition yet. We request assistance in
locating the perpetrator, a Blood Oath, who also tore one of my best captains
to pieces during the attempted capture.”
Fravien’s fiery hot blood ran colder
than ice, the Queen had been injured and they were unsure of the extent. A
Blood Oath was loose in Glind, the capital city of Trinamear, a good soldier
felled, in all intents and purposes an utter disaster for the nation on a day
when festivities were to begin.
Inder continued.
“I know that there are reports coming
in that the Blood Oath may be attempting to reach the sewers in hope of escape,
we are sending signals to flood the entire system, as we speak. I really need
your help Fravien, though we need this creature alive.” A worried and nervous
sweat poured from Inder.
Fravien sent Inder an impression of
agreement, raised his wings, waited for Inder to clear the downdraft area and
thundered into the sky.
“I want all dragons in air now! Queen
Disandra is injured from an attempted assassination. We seek a Blood Oath, I
want all dragons of the smaller stature to ground themselves at the South Gate
and pick up the demon’s scent.” Fravien gave the orders with confidence.
Fifteen dragons broke from the
flight, diving so quickly that a screaming boom sounded across the city as they
broke the sound barrier, landing in a thundering cloud of dust thrown up from
the force of the landing. Ulatra glided down to join them, though she would
remain outside of the South Gate due to her size.
“Fravien, I will stay here and
instruct the guards of our progress. This is a mess, I can smell only death.”
Ulatra wrinkled her snout in disgust.
“Ulatra, be careful and keep me
informed of any developments, I am going to fly a wing out further from the
city to scout. I feel that there may be something larger than one assassin
brewing here.” Fravien said nothing more, it would make things harder for both.
Twenty dragons banked away from the
city, all lining up in a diamond formation with Fravien leading from the point.
Ulatra silently sent a prayer to the gods that they would all return, often
most would not.
Te’vor lay in a hammock, swaying
gently with the swells of the sea, his mind drifting along like the ship he
rode. Only a day had passed since their departure from Glind harbor, there was
nearly a month left before they would reach the shores of Mastral. A knock on
his cabin door stirred him from the hammock, he swayed slightly as his feet met
the deck, sea legs had never come quickly to him.
“Yes, who is it.” Te’vor asked as he
reached his water basin and splashed the salty liquid on his face.
“Sir, the Commander request a
conference with you, on deck.” A timid sounding deckhand.
Te’vor grabbed a cloth and wiped the
cool water from his face, looking in the mirror and judging he appeared
presentable. Opening the door, Te’vor looked at the deckhand and following a
slightly delayed and nervous salute from the young seaman, he returned the
salute and turned up the walkway that led to the upper deck.
Gerish waited at the head of the
steps, after a quick salute the men fell into step.
“Sir, we are going to split the fleet in about one
hours’ time. I wanted to ask if you would like to go over the strategic aspects
once more, before I issue the order?” Gerish’s reliable confidence reassured
Te’vor.Copyright 2018
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