“And?” Basil asked, leaning forward in his chair.
“The order will not take sides in such a matter. His facts are well researched, and his opinions are well thought out, but we already knew this. What matters now is the news you gave about our inability to muster any troops worthy of note. Certainly we couldn’t have suffered that many casualties in only one year?”
“The king is tight-lipped on exact figures, but it doesn’t look promising for us,” Basil concluded.
“Did the historian actually tell you what he expected us to find out here?” Gemma asked.
“Yes, Lady Gemma. He fears that a lone creature of the Draconis species resides somewhere within the Kero Swamp,” Markus answered.
“For Agon’s sake, just call it what it is, man—a bloody dragon!” Basil exclaimed in a loud voice.
Markus was somewhat taken aback by not only the outburst but also the complete loss of formal protocol from the duke’s justiciar. “Calm yourself down, Basil. Dragon will do fine, but as you can understand there have not been any . . . dragon sightings for centuries in these parts, and that includes going past the history of the last transit by Dor Akun. If memory serves me correctly, the species is known for being active during the time of the transit and the year or years following. You are a follower of Diamedes, Basil. Is that how you understand his research as well?”
Basil leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. “You understand perfectly as usual, Master Markus, but, if I might add, the mere fact that an actual sighting has not occurred does not make the findings inaccurate or irrelevant. If Diamedes says there is a high probability of finding a dragon near here, then I would treat his opinion with greater seriousness and respect.”
“Your point is noted, Basil. I’ll see to it that the matter is looked into with much more urgency than it is currently,” Markus said.
“Was the holy warrior one of yours, Markus?” Gemma asked, sipping her wine, obviously feeling that the moment of crisis had passed.
“She was of our order, but she came from the Grand Astor Temple. Supreme Patriarch Torwell spoke very highly of her, and she had a good reputation as a serious fighter and defender of the faith. If she is truly gone, her presence will be missed.”
“Well, keep us apprised of your investigation. I’m sure my cousin will want a full accounting of his champions in this matter,” Gemma said. “I expect the same from the local prefect as well.”
“Of course, my lady. Do you know how long you plan on staying with us in Tannis? I hope you find the accommodations acceptable?” Markus asked.
“A few more days for the foreseeable future, and yes, though quaint, we are most grateful for the Astor accommodations. Your facility is much more appropriate for our lodging than the simple inns we saw in town today. In fact, I was quite surprised to see how expansive your estate here is, considering how far away we are from Utandra,” Gemma said.
“Quite so, Master Markus,” Basil chimed in. “Your hospitality is most appreciated, and most gracious.”
“You both are very welcome. I’ll be sure to discuss the matter in the morning with Prefect Moross.”
“Before you do, I was wondering, do you have any initiates who could replace the duke’s champions?” Basil asked.
Gemma leaned back, as she was just about to stand, obviously feeling their conversation had run its course, but she wasn’t about to let her cousin’s justiciar continue the conversation with the temple master without her.
Markus also appeared just as surprised as he leaned back from the act of standing and looked across his desk at Justiciar Basil. “Quite honestly, and with all due respect to you and your family, my lady”—Markus nodded at Lady Gemma—“the third call for conscription last winter pretty much depleted most of the available manpower, as well as provisioning resources, of this region. Not only our temple here but also the provincial offices of Tannis, as well as many of our local farmers, hunters, tradesmen, and merchants, have all left for the military campaign.”
“Forget the manpower, Markus,” said Gemma. “My own brother and son are at the front lines even now. It is time for everyone to rise to the challenge and show support for Ulatha, and the kingdom of Foray, regardless of rank, status, or caste. My cousin, the duke, and our king demand no less, and we should show our loyalty during such a crisis. Surely you have staff that can be used if need be?”
Markus looked at Basil and then back to Gemma. He replied hesitantly, “Well, we do have some acolytes who could be utilized in certain areas, but nothing close to replenishing what we have already lost and have given. Many of them are untested and still in training.”
“Well, graduate them, then,” Gemma stated matter-of-factly.
“It’s not as simple as that . . .” Markus said, his voice trailing as his guests gazed at him more sternly, and the air around their meeting became quite stifling.
“Make it simple, Markus,” was Gemma’s lone response.
“I concur, Master Markus. Do what you have to do, but see to it that Ulatha is served. That is part of the reason we are here, and we won’t be returning to Utandra until our lord’s needs are met. This will include further conscription of staff from your order,” Basil said.
Markus returned the stern looks and then sighed, and not for the first time that day. “Fine, see me tomorrow evening—say, over dinner? I’ll be able to give you some news on what we can do, but I must consult with some key members of the provincial government first.”
“We already have today, and they are willing to assist you in this matter.” Basil nodded.
Shouldn’t we be assisting them? Markus thought, but left this unvoiced. “Very well—it sounds like we have a plan. If we are finished, I’d like to start by discussing this with my advisors tonight.”
“Excellent, Markus,” Gemma said. Standing and reaching across the table, she extended her hand. Markus leaned over and kissed the noble woman’s hand behind the third knuckle, as was customary for her position, and nodded to Justiciar Basil, who simply stood, returning the nod. “Until tomorrow then, and again, our thanks for your hospitality, Markus.”
Did I have a choice? “Of course, my lady—the pleasure is all ours,” Markus said.
Markus waited, standing behind his desk until the echoes of their footsteps faded into silence. Marjorie, his evening aid, came back to shut the door. “Send for my advisors,” Markus commanded, finally sitting back down in his chair and pouring himself a glass of wine. It would not be his last glass this evening. Not after this discussion.
Chapter 4
Evil
Qui Amatha lay upon her pile of treasure and delicately applied some weight to her right front leg. It appeared to be healing properly, and she felt that she would soon be back to full strength.
There was a roar, loud and long, as she burst into a vocal tirade of anger and hate. The sound of her outburst reverberated across the dank, humid domed chamber, located under a small knoll in the middle of what was left of ancient ruins in the Kero Swamp.
How dare they! Qui Amatha thought to herself, recounting the events from two weeks earlier. The puny humans had actually hurt her. She had not suffered a wound of this magnitude for centuries. Wounds! she thought to herself. Her leg tendons had nearly been severed by the searing holy blade of that damn she-witch of humanity. Just the mere presence of the foul woman hurt Qui Amatha’s psyche, and indeed her mind and soul.
The female warrior was like a shining light, blinding her poor eyes, which were able to see not only in the visible spectrum of light but also in the infrared of heat, and she was sure the bright light emanating from the human female warrior had nothing to do with her body heat. It was not natural, she thought to herself. The pitiful female warrior was, most likely, possessed by some bad aura that was hurtful to peace-loving dragons of her kind.
She turned her neck to look at her leg again and felt the pain on both sides. Blast those human scum! she thought to herself again. The male fighter had struc
k her neck, and only by the loving grace of her scaly armor was the blow blunted and a flesh wound was the only result, but the other man . . .
Damn the Kesh! Damn the sorcerer! Now he was the one she hated most of all. It was most pleasant to have digested the Kesh wizard, and her only regret was in not being able to consume him whole. She had left his legs, below his waist, in the marsh for the carrion and beetles to finish off. His electrical attack had hit her neck, and it was so powerful that it blasted several of her scales right off her body, scorching the flesh beneath them. Kesh indeed! The Queen of Dragons was right. They were at war with the arcane meddlers of Agon.
At first when the wyvern arrived and woke her she could scarcely believe what she had heard. She was about to awaken soon anyway—another year or two more to prepare for the transit, when the Father of all Dragons was soon to arrive—but the queen’s messenger woke her first. War was the message. Fools, thought Qui Amatha of the news.
The leader of the Kesh had apparently killed and looted the hordes of the queen’s family in search of something. The many plundered lairs were a testament to the cruelty and insanity of humankind. Humans were supposed to know their place in the order of Agon and Akun. Agon nurtured them for the slaughter, and Akun sired the butchers to do the deed. Life had been this way for millennia. Why would they upset the balance of things? Were they not permitted to live in relative peace and harmony for two centuries? What more could they ask for? Cattle should know their place in the food chain.
The messenger had conveyed everything in explicit detail. Detail, yes—for dragon’s perception of time was much different than that of humans. For three days while Qui Amatha healed the wyvern talked and conveyed the many happenings of the last two centuries, but more so with the last few years, culminating in the revelation that the sheep had turned on the herder.
Then came more news that the wyvern scouted and reported another party of three fools that had arrived where she had defended her home. She was contemplating killing them and considered how much time that would delay her healing, when she was informed that they had taken a few small items and had left the marshlands straight away. Maybe some of them are wiser than others? she thought to herself.
Sivern, the wyvern drone, crawled from the smaller entrance into her cavern. The grey scales indicated that it was one of many bred to do the bidding of the Queen of Dragons. The drone stopped in front of Qui Amatha, lowered its head in deference, and waited patiently. Some of her kind were known to test the patience of wyvern drones by making them wait for hours, if not days, but she knew this one and she knew it would be pointless. Sivern would wait there like a stone statue until either she spoke or he starved to death.
“News?” Qui Amatha asked, breaking the silence.
Sivern raised his head. The wyvern was not full size, and being a drone it was only a third the size of a normal wyvern. They were aggressive, and so over the eons the large beasts, with their poisonous stingers, were killed in favor of the smaller runts of the litter, and in time forced selection produced the final product that she now looked upon. “Nothing moves in your vast realm, Princess of Darkness. Do you have orders for me?”
Qui Amatha rather liked the flattery that Sivern displayed. Not all drones were trained so properly, and she was most pleased to have had the queen send this particular one to assist her. “The filthy humans infecting these lands must be cleansed of the area. Not only must they be taught a lesson, but also it is soon time to feed.”
“Most correct, your royalness.” Sivern’s mouth contorted into what amounted basically to a smile, albeit a wicked one.
“But I won’t do this alone. We must move in force, and I will call upon my black army to assist. You will scout for me and lead the army once it has formed. We will lay waste to this ‘town’ that you say sprouted up not far from here. Do you understand me, drone?”
“Yes, your highness,” Sivern said, licking his fangs. Qui Amatha noticed a drop of venom escaping from his tail. “You will call upon the dead?”
“Of course, it will take a few days, but then we move. After that, you can report of our successes to the Queen Mother.”
“As you command, your regalness,” Sivern said.
Qui Amatha spread her wings wide, knocking over a square block of rock and scattering some coins from her treasure mound, and then shifted her legs, stabilizing her bulk for what was to come. She closed her eyes as Sivern stood watch, and felt the energy of the Father flow through her. In palpable waves there emanated a flow of evil energy from her, enough to freeze a man in fear. Very quickly the first result of her emanations protruded—a skeletal hand emerged from the boggy morass of the swampy ground around her cavern. The dead would heed her call.
Olivia had awakened late that morning and was greeted with a warm breakfast and tea that the villa servant Regina had prepared for her. After she had finished eating, her father’s chief of staff, Tybert, informed her that she was wanted immediately at the regional offices in the town’s center. Tybert’s tone and voice seemed distressed, and she hurried to gather a few things in her pack before leaving and making her way to the town’s center, which took her ten minutes.
When she arrived, she noticed that several servants, and quite a few soldiers, stood milling around the outside of the building. It wasn’t a large building, and the lobby obviously didn’t have enough room for everyone attending, so it spilled over into the street, and it appeared as if someone was having a large party of some kind.
Olivia moved into the building, pressing herself past several people in various discussions with each other, and headed to the back corridor, which led to her father’s office. But before she got very far, one of his scribes pointed to the side conference room that was near the back. “He’s waiting for you in the Summer Room,” the scribe said, while pointing in the opposite direction.
Olivia quickly reached the room and noticed a regal guard standing at the side of the door. He didn’t move and didn’t look at her, so she opened the door and found her father with several other people around the conference table.
“Ah, there you are, my dear. Come in and do shut the door,” her father said to her as he got up and walked halfway round the table to pull an empty chair back for her. She smiled as she sat and felt immensely proud of his gentlemanly act.
“A few introductions would be in order,” said a woman in an expensive silk dress, as she sat with a neutral expression on her face.
“Right you are, Lady Gemma,” said her father. “Olivia, may I present to you Lady Gemma from House Vandersot.” The lady who had just spoken merely nodded her head almost imperceptibly. “This is Justiciar Basil from the duke’s court, Keeper of the Justice. Commander Fulbert of our lord’s detachment, and next to you is Diamedes, historian to the king.”
Olivia was looking around the table as they were being introduced, and found herself startled to see the plainly dressed man whom she had talked to at the temple the day before smiling back at her.
“Good morning, Lady Olivia,” the man stated, smiling at her and giving her a small nod.
“You’re Diamedes?” she asked, surprised at his dress and demeanor.
“None other. I hope this fact doesn’t distress you?” he asked, seemingly with genuine concern, which did more to confuse her than to comfort her.
“I thought you were one of the staff from the city. My apologies, but I had no idea when we talked who you were. I feel embarrassed at how we met. Please, do forgive,” Olivia said.
Diamedes smiled again and took her hand in his. “There is nothing to forgive, child. I am quite used to anonymity, and it suits me fine, though at times I must admit it can lead to some awkward moments later on.”
“So you’ve met?” Olivia’s father asked as he raised a brow.
“Yes, we have, yesterday at the temple, where we discussed books and libraries in general and a book on the specific local history, if I recall correctly,” Diamedes said.
Olivia blushed when
she remembered how Lily dismissed him to the kitchens. “You took no offense at how the librarian and I treated you?”
“None whatsoever—it was a pleasure to see your splendid library and to see that the youth today appreciate the past. History, after all, is not always one of the most popular subjects amongst our younger generation.”
“Well, if we’ve had enough with the pleasantries, I’d like to resume our business. We have much to discuss,” Gemma said sternly.
“Yes. Correct you are, Lady Gemma,” Julian said, leaning forward. “Where were we?”
“The results from the scouting party,” Commander Fulbert said.
“Well, as I was saying, the scouts found the items that you have seen yesterday at the temple, and I find it difficult to believe that they would have been either forgotten or left in the marshlands for no apparent reason. We suspect foul play has been involved, and we aren’t sure we will receive any positive news regarding the return of the duke’s party,” Julian said.
“Which brings us to the purpose for inviting your daughter to our meeting,” Gemma said, before anyone could continue further. “We have discussed this matter with Master Markus and he has agreed to appoint a few select members of his staff to a . . . shall we call it . . . a ‘rescue party’?”
“And I’ve informed Master Markus, as well as your party, that my daughter is here to serve Tannis. My son is currently on the front lines and is serving both lord and king and—”
He was cut off abruptly by Lady Gemma. “My brother and son, both royalty,” she said, pausing to allow her words to sink in for effect, “are also on the front lines in this war, Prefect Moross. What makes your family any more special?”
Olivia was shocked at how quickly the pleasantries from just a moment earlier were quickly discarded, and she could feel the tension building in the air. The silence hung for a moment, and she felt the need to remain silent and allow her father a chance to respond, but her rash and impatient side took over. “Father, it’s alright—the Lady Gemma has a point, and as I’ve been saying I’m ready to be anointed to the order and allowed to assist where needed.”
The Black Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 1) Page 4
