Complete In the Service of Dragons

by William Robert Stanek

  The boy looked from the Watcher to Ayrian, back and forth, back and forth. He began to trudge through the snow toward the steeply descending cliff ahead of him, drawn by a seemingly nonchalant hand. The other two eventually followed. A barely visible circular platform void of snow and ice hung at the very fringe of the dark, gray cliff. The platform was plain and unremarkable except for three small sets of stairs in the middle that led upward and outward, ending in open air.

  Xith began to climb the stairs but Vilmos stopped him with a wavering hand.

  “That is the fools’ gambit,” came the peculiarly familiar voice from within him, “we must wait.”

  While the boy crouched to his haunches and settled in to wait, Xith tossed a nervous glare at Ayrian and then they did likewise. The sky about them slowly turned deeper shades of gray and then became utter black. Night settled in about them; and as it brought about a shift in temperatures, the haze began to thin and a clear, moonless night with no clouds to mar it tardily appeared. Below the platform’s perch a thick blanket of white glistened, looking as if one could walk out across it to the neighboring mountain peaks. Above, as moonrise came, the stars twinkled and shone; it was a full autumn moon that sadly looked down on the unlikely trio. From high above, two others carefully watched; unseen, they studied each in turn. The presence did not astound or confound them; there was no quandary in the arrival. The two were known to them, yet it was the third who distressed them.

  “The time to act is now!” intoned the older of the two.

  “Yes, the waiting is at last over.”

  “Go, do what you must.”

  “Yes, master,” said Amir as he disappeared, to reappear on the platform below in the midst of those gathered there.

  The strange and powerful-looking newcomer slowly withdrew his sword from its embellished scabbard; the double-edged blade was as long as Vilmos was tall and finely honed. It cheerfully reflected the light of the sad autumn moon. Ayrian was about to react when a gentle hand steadied his arm. The birdman cocked his head in his odd fashion, turning to regard the hand on his shoulder; there was a distant, knowing stare in the eyes of its owner. Ayrian and Xith studied the great one before them; the description they vaguely recalled from ancient lore although they had never personally met the son of the titan king.

  “We seek entrance into your city. The time is now, Sentinel!” issued the voice from Vilmos.

  As before, Amir knew the voice but not the face of the third; the voice he recalled from a distant time, a time of strife and turmoil. Having eyes that could see into this realm and beyond into shadow heightened his other senses. A sense of trust flowed through his mind concerning the first two; still, the other worried him. He perceived only an empty space in his mind where feelings for the third should have been, yet it was the latter that had known the ancient name of invocation. He had somehow expected this strange boy, who was not a boy, to know the commanding word; so his suspicion did not dwindle, it only grew. He sheathed his weapon, and in the next instant all four stood in the audience room of the Cloud City. The audience chamber was a long hall with a high vaulted ceiling shaped in the symmetry of three waning moons and in each of the three circular corners of the chamber stood a mural. Together they told a story of the world’s past, and they seemed to change with the passing of time. Noman let them drink in the ambiance before he blighted the air with spoken words. He saw the tension in Amir, yet said nothing to allow him to relax; the time was here at last, and now the sentinel must forever be at the ready.

  “Welcome to the City of the Sky, Shaman of the Great Northern Reaches, Lord of the Gray Eagle Clan, and lastly, the wanderer who has come home. I am Noman, guardian of the lost children of the Father, master of the City of the Sky, and my companion is Amir, a child of the Blood Wars. Your arrival here marks the beginning—”

  “—of the end.” interrupted Vilmos. “Very dark times are ahead; the world will fall to utter chaos. There can be no stopping it, for even if you tried you could not, for it must be. Soon the world will be divided as chaos begins. The armies grow, the beasts emerge from their burrows, the dark forces reborn will incite the kingdoms to war and to civil strife, and the kingdoms will fall one by one. All civilization will be laid to ruin.

  “Out of the chaos will come an ending of the old and a beginning of the new. For now we must seek out the child of the coming, then the gathering will truly begin. Are you surprised? I too know the words of the prophecy. Prophecies come and go, old man.”

  Noman stared down at the boy in wonder.

  “True, true, all true, time will be the judge. Where is the other? Did you not find her?” The latter was directed at Xith.

  “Yes, I found her, though I fear we must hurry. They have already found us once.”

  The guardian’s face turned suddenly grim and he spoke again but his words were lost in the echoes of the tremendous hall, but to Xith it sounded as if he had said, “Yes, yes, and many, many more along the way.”

  Chapter Six

  Feelings of relief spread rapidly throughout the group when the city came into view. The sun, surprisingly, had only begun its descent towards the horizon. The city honor guard hastened them to the gates, where Chancellor Van’te welcomed them to the city. A cheer arose from the men as Valam announced that they were to be assigned quarters and then released to wander the city as they would. He also promised to ensure that the city’s taverns flowed with ale until the last man passed out.

  A small contingent of honor guard, those who had accompanied Valam to Imtal, waited patiently for their instructions. They were still mounted and seated quietly. Valam was just about to mount when a soft voice reached him.

  “Lord Valam, may I have a word with you?” quietly, respectfully intoned one of the mounted guard.

  “Why, of course,” said Valam. Chancellor Van’te was quick to whisper a name in the prince’s ear. Valam smoothly appended, “Bowman Ylsa.”

  “I don’t know if you have noticed, my lord, but I am not a man,” the woman spoke kindly, not harshly as she dismounted. Ylsa unbundled her hair and let it flow long. “I prefer the title of Archer if you do not mind.”

  “I— I— I—” stuttered Valam.

  The chancellor whispered in his ear again, “Strong spirited, isn’t she?” The chancellor scrutinized Ylsa closely now, smiling.

  “Yes, yes indeed,” said Valam louder than he wished in reply to Van’te’s statement.

  “Good,” said Ylsa smiling, “have a pleasant evening, my lord, prince.”

  Ylsa turned and walked away, leading her mount behind her.

  “She is a Bowman First Rank,” intoned the chancellor happily, “Do you wish to know more? I will gladly inquire for you.”

  “No, Chancellor Van’te. I do not wish to know more. Thank you.”

  The chancellor smiled a devilish smile, knowing the frustrated tone of his lord prince. He would tell Isador of this one; perhaps she could spark an interest as a concubine, forcing him to a wife of standing.

  The palace proper was a short distance away; and once within its guarded walls, Valam felt he had truly come home. Quashan’ palace wasn’t as grand as Imtal’s. It didn’t have grand gardens stretching through numerous courtyards or sanctioned council halls. It was a simple four-towered castle with a meager courtyard, a fair-sized armory, and a modest stable.

  The gatehouse held, but a single shielding portcullis and inner rampart had only recently been rebuilt. The palace proper was a separate building, two stories in height, that sat squarely in the center of the rear bastion. Still, Valam admired its simple beauty as he waited for a stable boy to retrieve his mount, telling the boy to make certain that he had rubbed the horse down fully before he turned in for the night.

  Chancellor Van’te quickly had hot baths drawn for Valam, Seth, and Father Jacob, insisting that they bathe and rest before they held any type of council. Introductions, although extremely cordial, were very brief.

  When they were suitably reste
d, the chancellor returned. He ushered them downstairs, telling them someone was waiting for them, an old acquaintance. At the same time, Seth and Valam thought, Adrina, and asked where she was. Van’te assured them it was not any one Valam knew, rather an old friend of Seth’s, which perplexed both Seth and Valam.

  “Why all the mystery?” asked Valam.

  “Would you spoil an old man’s fun?” asked Chancellor Van’te.

  “And mine!” responded another.

  Seth recognized the voice, or at least he thought he recognized the voice, though it could not be.

  “Yes, your hearing is fine, Brother Seth, first of the order of the Red, protector of the Queen-Mother.”

  “But how?” asked Seth in disbelief.

  “I am quite tough myself,” said the man behind the voice, as he stepped out of the shadows to embrace Seth.

  Valam was totally lost; he had never seen this stranger before, nor had Van’te mentioned him in any of the messages to his father.

  “The Great-Father must still have plans for me.”

  Valam fixed Chancellor Van’te with angry eyes.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “He only arrived here early last week. Your group had already departed when the message reached Imtal Palace.”

  “How is it that we missed your messenger on the road?” asked Valam skeptically.

  “Honest, my lord, he went via Veter and then on to Imtal.”

  “It is truly great to see you again!” exclaimed Seth.

  Valam was still confused. The man appeared to be of the same stature as Seth, the skin color was the same, the hair, the eyes, yet he seemed to lack something. Valam couldn’t quite place what it was. When formal introductions were finally made, Valam and Van’te excused themselves to allow the two friends to catch up on the past.

  Seth and Cagan talked long into the night. Seth first explained his experiences in Imtal and then Cagan told how he had come to meet Chancellor Van’te. He spoke of the blind man who had found and befriended him and mended his broken leg and treated his wounds. The saltwater had fouled the wounds and nearly rotted the leg. Poison was festering and spreading through his body. He had almost lost his leg and his life, but the old gentleman had been able to save them both.

  Afterwards, there was nothing more the two could say, so they retired to their beds, seeking to catch as much sleep as possible before the sun rose high in the heavens. As Seth lay in bed, he thought back to the last time he had seen Cagan. It had been just before the ship went down. His mind jumped to the letter Cagan had given him in those few frantic moments in which the Queen-Mother spoke of what he must do and why. No matter the cost, the two must survive. Seth had learned of his fate that day and it had carried him through experiences he would not have endured otherwise.

  His mind exploded as the rationalization hit him; he now understood the Queen-Mother’s cryptic message. The Father had already seen to their needs. He had been blind in his thinking about Galan; if his mind had been open, he would have known that the Father would not have let them fail. He had denied fate and tempted destiny. Galan should have been allowed to pass; it was her time and now she was gone forever. She did not even rest in the house of the Father.

  Images flashed through his mind. Seth could not deny the feelings of guilt. His thoughts were scattered to and fro. He tried to close his tired eyes and find solace in sleep, yet the face came to him and would not allow him to do so. As he lay staring at the ceiling, another face danced within his thoughts and even in sleep the two faces found him.

  Valam had not been idle the previous night; he and the good chancellor stayed up well into the early morning hours discussing plans for the camp to be set up near the coast, the progress of arms production, the acquisition of supplies, and many other things. The rumors of continued unrest in the Minors wandered into their conversation from time to time though the chancellor seemed to think the rumors were idle chatter. Valam was inclined to believe him. They had many contacts in each of the kingdoms and if something were really taking place, they would know.

  Over the course of the next several days, the base camp was constructed, and training and recruitment began. Once the camp was set up and supplies and arms were distributed, Valam’s fears concerning the other kingdoms disappeared. Runners were sent to all areas of the kingdom, including the major cities of the north and east. Valam intentionally sent two sets of runners to Imtal and within days those that had been gathering around the city and those that were filling its guest houses, inns and streets, quickly raced southward.

  Word of mouth spread fastest through the countryside and after a time Valam sent out no more runners. He allowed rumors and excitement to do the work that it would have taken his runners a fortnight to do. The camp, which was already of generous proportions, housing a massive contingent that represented nearly a third of the Imtal garrison, a select stock from the garrison outposts along the route from Imtal to Quashan’, and a healthy number of mercenaries from the Free Cities, nearly doubled in seven days, yet it wasn’t only soldiers and mercenaries that joined the encampment. Peddlers, merchants, and hustlers of all sorts descended upon the camp. Valam found that he had his hands full just controlling the crowds.

  Perimeter patrols were set up around the camp along with a continuous watch. Controlled checkpoints were erected at the four ordinal points of the compass. Mounted patrols rode constantly, surveying the area the soldiers now referred to as Peddler Town, a place where nearly everything that could be bought or sold in the Free Cities was readily available. A fence had to be erected around the training grounds to hold back the spectators and this seemed to be the thing that set Valam on fire.

  A decree went forth written in Chancellor Van’te’s own hand. Those that defied the patrols would no longer be set free or levied with a simple fine. A mandatory sentence of servitude was called for—service in the army of Great Kingdom until the transgressors had fulfilled their obligation to the state. Suddenly, and without much surprise, Peddler Town quieted, the patrols no longer had difficulties twenty-four hours a day, and the training grounds were vacated during practice hours. A disturbance happened now and then, but only a few times a day, which Valam counted as a divine gift.

  Chapter Seven

  Beyond the grand audience chamber lay a central athenaeum, gathering halls, dining halls, kitchens, rows of bed chambers, open air courtyards and many, many other chambers of various kinds, yet it was the bathing pool that drew in the tired, grimy travelers. Boyish airs returned to Vilmos as he playfully swam around the large oval pool, and Ayrian and Xith watched with surprised interest.

  Hidden things stirred within the boy; and they awaited the time of their further arousal, which could still be years away. This first day in the mystical city passed as a blur before their eyes, and none would be able to recall it in the days or weeks that followed.

  Lacking a discernible day or night, the Cloud City truly seemed outside of time; and for the most part throughout the many days that followed their arrival, Vilmos was left to his own whims while the shaman and the lord spent most of their time in heated debates with the master of the Cloud City, Noman. On the other hand, the gentle warrior, Amir, was free-roaming; and, as he wasn’t the sort to enter into the discussions, he spent most of the time with Vilmos.

  Vilmos was intrigued by the goliath and his play with the sword, watching with earnest interest during the periods when Amir trained, imagining the shadow dancing around the nimble warrior. Often he would laugh, shriek, and even applaud. Xith, however, did not spend all of his time with Noman; he also made time to continue the boy’s training and education.

  Vilmos was more curious than ever about magic and its origins. He came to realize, in his experience in the Cloud City, that it was not evil as he had been led to believe in the past. Xith also did this to see how far the black priests had corrupted the boy’s thinking and if this twisting could be undone.

  Outside, beyond the sanctified walls, a
fortnight had passed though within the City a mere seven days had taken place. The moon was again full and the night sky was cloudless and full of brightly shining stars although those within did not know this. Amir had paced nervously throughout most of the day; and now as the others ate the evening meal in the grand dining hall beneath the wide sphere of the central dome, he again roamed in front of a nearby window.

  A decision had been made the previous day to leave the city of the sky, and this would be the group’s last meal within the great, protective walls. Among the many thoughts that disturbed the agile warrior’s thoughts, this was the one that played most heavily, for he did not wish to venture beyond the sanctuary the great walls afforded.