Alador smiled for the first time in hours. “That is good news. I will see her before I rest. Did they say how she was?”
He took the glass gratefully. Already the warmth of the alcohol’s burn was easing its way through his exhausted form.
“I do not know lad, I only heard she was awake and asking for you.” Bariton held up his glass. “To the people who died this day, may they be avenged swiftly and thoroughly.
Alador could drink to that. Their glasses clinked and then Alador drained his in one go. He walked to the table and set the glass down. “Anything else before I go to check on Nemara?”
“Not that can’t wait until you have eaten and had some rest.” Bariton walked with Alador to his door in the cavern wall. “You are ordered to bed for at least six hours.”
“Yes, High Master.” Alador saluted the man and then left him. He picked his way swiftly through people huddled against walls and milling about down to the healers’ area. Once there he made his way swiftly to Nemara’s side.
Nemara must have been able to see him for her head tracked his movement to her. “How are you, Nemara?”
Nemara frowned. “Better, though everything still seems very over-lit. Bright light actually hurts.” As if by signal, she closed her eyes with a slight sigh of relief.
“I am so sorry. I should have let you go earlier.” He took her hand. “I was mistaken in assuming you had the same abilities as Rena.” He hooked a stool with his foot and pulled it over to sit down. “I would never have hurt you on purpose.”
She opened her eyes and raised his hand to her lips to kiss his fingers. “You did what you needed to do. You couldn’t help it if I wasn’t as strong as your last partner.” Though she was tired, she sounded more herself. “The healer said that I should stay the night. My vision is clearing up with the compresses they are applying. I should be able to see well enough to get around by tomorrow.”
“Well then, you should follow their advice.” Alador brushed her hair back from her forehead and tucked a stray lock behind her ear. He was so relieved to have her recovering. He had managed to save her.
“I won’t complain and I’ll be good if you will go check on the egg,” she whispered. “It needs to be rotated,” her tone all but begged this of him.
Alador sometimes swore she laid the egg the way she mothered it. He wished he knew how much Rena had imprinted on Nemara for her to retrieve the egg and care for it. Obviously, Rena had not fully transferred herself’ to Nemara as Renamaum had to him, but it was equally obvious that something had been done.
“I will go as soon as we are done here. I could use a hot soak and a few hours of sleep.”
Nemara licked her pert lips. “Is it bad? I heard the wave was enormous.”
“It’s bad.”
“People died, didn’t they?” she whispered her question with a touch of sadness and regret.
“Quite a few.” Alador looked down studying her small hand in his. He toyed with her fingers and stroked the back of her hand gently as his mind flooded with images from the first day of cleanup. “I think there would have been losses no matter what we did. They are greater than they should have been. A mage, or mages, walled the first tier closed so no one could move up from the trench. Even so, a lot of those that did come up were contained to the first tier and it also got hit hard.” His voice broke when he once more contemplated the death of Sordith and Keelee. He had not realized how close he had become to his half-brother in such a short time.
“Are Keelee and Sordith all right?” Nemara grasped his hand tighter. Her eyes opened wider in question. She winced slightly at the bright light.
“I honestly don’t know. I never saw them.” Alador squeezed her hand back. “You know he is the type that would have stayed there until he had everyone out. If they walled it off before the wave hit, it is likely that he was in the trench.”
Nemara let a tear slip down her cheek. “I am so sorry, Alador.” She rolled to her side toward him and pulled him forward into her arms.
He lowered his head to the edge of the bed, and she kissed his hair and pet his head as he let the tears finally escape. She hovered over him whispering gentle encouragement as he sobbed quietly under her soft embrace. She cradled his head in her arms and let her own tears fall.
Eventually, he was too exhausted to even cry anymore. He raised his head and she pulled the sheet up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He thumbed the ones she had shed from her eyes.
“Is the water receding yet?” She asked to change the subject.
“It is moving slowly. The culverts are sending water into the trench like geysers. With the walkways walled up, there is nowhere for the standing water on the tier to go in those recesses.” Alador reached out and put a hand on her face tenderly. “Get some rest. I will go check on the egg.”
Nemara nodded and let go of his hand as Alador rose.
“I will be back in the morning to check on you,” offered the mage. “You do what the healers tell you until then.”
Nemara laughed lightly. “Yes, because you have been so good at that yourself. Pot calling the pan sooted.”
“Yes, but I am doing what you have asked and so you must return the favor.” Alador chided gently.
“Okay, I didn’t plan on rushing off anywhere.” She ran a hand to push her hair out of her face. Alador saw the telltale streak of white but said nothing. If she didn’t already know, she would find out soon enough.
“I will see you then.” He leaned down and put a gentle kiss on her forehead. He would have liked to crawl in bed with her and just be comforted by her embrace until he fell into oblivion. But he couldn’t. He had to see to the egg and all the rest of the things that needed his attention. He turned and strode away. He had things to do and he didn’t have much energy left to do them.
Chapter Eleven
Jon waited in the antechamber. All praetors and priests had been summoned by the High Priestess. They all were milling around the outer chamber awaiting entry and the arrival of Lady Morana.
The upper openings of the temple created the illusion of a tiered city, but on a normal day this visual effect also created a gentle whistling like the sound of flutes. It was usually a soothing background noise, but today with the high winds of the storm, which seemed to blanket the whole continent, it was more like a hundred flutes all screaming a different tune. It was difficult to hear anyone, so everyone’s voice was raised, creating an overpowering din..
Silence descended as the door opened and they were all ushered into the inner room of the High Priestess’ audience chambers. Jon hung to the back, picking a place against the wall of the chamber. If someone made her angry, the last place he wanted to be was in the front of the target of her ire.
Lady Morana beckoned them to come forward. Jon mused at how the rest of them looked as hesitant as he felt; she had not been in a good mood of late. They all shuffled forward slowly – none of them wanting to be the focal point of her glare. He had to give the woman credit, she had her claws sunk deeply into all of them. He hung back in the shadows so she would not catch sight of him from where she was on the onyx platform.
She stood in front of her ornate throne, her jet-black robe glistening, with the intricate beadwork on the standup collar which framed her pale face and her dark hair piled up in braids on her head. She swept her hands in front of her to indicate the whole room and recited a spell which dropped the sound of the wind’s effect on the temple to a low hum and amplified her own voice so she could be heard clearly throughout the room.
“As you all know we are experiencing a severe storm across the continent. We are needed by Silverport and the villages north and south of the city for five hundred leagues. Our capital was at the forefront when the storm first came ashore. I am told there was an enormous wave, which caught many unprepared. People are injured and dying, and it is our duty to help the injured to healers where we can, and ease the suffering of those who cannot be healed.
“I need eve
ry priest, praetor and those that have been trained in the rites ready to leave here as soon as the storm wanes enough to make lexital travel possible. You will need to send the lexital back from your assignments so they can ferry another.” She was all business. Morana usually had a silkiness to her voice, a persuasive tone to build trust with those she commanded, but not today.
A murmur broke out in the enclave as people took in her words. Some were from coastal villages, so the shock and concern for their family and friends was evident. Jon suddenly had a moment of inspiration. He could endear himself to the High Priestess with one or two small suggestions.
“Milady, if I may?” He stepped forward into the light, and as he spoke people moved away from him a bit. It made him smile inwardly because he knew it was not out of politeness, but rather that no one wanted to associate themselves with him if his words brought anger from Lady Morana.
“Yes, Praetor?” She moved on the dais to face him directly.
“With it raining as it is, burnings will be difficult unless we suddenly have a beautiful day on the far side of this storm. I suggest we put the dragons to a test.” Jon stood perfectly still. His face was schooled with its usual lack of emotion.
“And what sort of test did you have in mind for my dark beauties?” She did not scowl, but her eyebrows knit together as she questioned him.
He knew it was a warning. She had been building her dragon flight for years. She had not revealed them to anyone other than her followers. No one knew their numbers or strength. She would be hesitant to allow her power to be known.
“Let the dead be piled and send the dragons to fetch the corpses to bring here. They can be properly placed in the crypts.” In Jon’s role as spy for Alador he had found out that she was amassing the bodies of the dead under the temple. He had not discerned the purpose yet, but by suggesting this action he hoped to gain entry to the bowels of the temple and learn her plan.
He inwardly felt accomplishment, though it did not show on his face, when she smiled with delight.
“That is an excellent and thoughtful idea.” Her voice was a purr, sounding more like her usual self. “The far villages will know their kin have been properly seen to, and we can ensure that the dragons will follow my commands to the letter.” She moved down from the dais to the main floor and approached Jon. Those gathered bowed and parted further, allowing her to pass.
Jon did not move as she approached and put her fingers under his chin. She was pure Lerdenian by birth, and taller than him, so as she lifted his chin he looked up into her dark eyes. Their gaze was almost hypnotic.
“You are the one called Jon?”
She knew damned well what his name was. He had felt her eyes on him almost daily since he arrived months ago. He had always been on his guard not to let her see anything that would put his loyalty in question.
“Yes, High Priestess. I live but to serve Dethara,” he murmured.
Around him the whispered echo of live to serve was uttered from the other members of her following.
“It is as it should be, Jon. As such, you will stay here and coordinate the gathering of the bodies the dragons bring and see to their proper interment into the crypts.” She dropped his chin and turned to glide back onto the dais.
She turned and stood with her hands folded in front of her. “Here is my full command,” her voice ran out once again over the gathering. “All will be sent out. Once you have done what you can at a coastal village, work your way inland toward the temple. Order the dead to be piled, that Dethara’s own dragons can recover them to lay beneath the temple. Impress upon the living that this is an honor afforded to few.”
Morana looked around making eye contact as the murmur of agreement rippled through the room. When her gaze reached Jon, he merely dipped his head in acknowledgement.
“You will need to take a full plague kit, as I am told dead and broken bodies abound which will pollute the water and the air.” She looked around at the eager group. It was rare so many were allowed out of the temple at the same time. “Good. I know some of you will want to check on your home village or city. Leave the name of the city you wish to start at with Jon. There is no room for doubling up; this will be a challenging endeavor for all concerned. So, if one claims a city, then you must choose another.” She looked out over the crowd. “Gather your supplies and move quickly now.” With a wave of her hand, she dismissed them all.
Jon almost panicked as people immediately flooded around him, throwing out the names of towns and villages.
He put up a hand and yelled, “Silence!”
The shock on the faces closest to him was almost amusing. He had taken time over the past few months to build a reputation as a soft-spoken man.
“Let us take this out of the High Priestess’ chamber. We will do this in an orderly fashion. We have time; the storm is still too strong for the lexital. I will get paper to take note of who is dispatched where. Form a line outside in the waiting chamber. I will be ready in less than an hour.”
He sent a servant running for quill and paper. As soon as he felt suitably organized, he sat down at a small table where a line had already started to form. One by one, he took down the names of coastal villages and towns he had never heard of. He was surprised at how easily they were accepting him as one appointed by Lady Morana as a leader.
It took almost three hours to register where everyone was going. He had ensured that Silverport had a number of members headed to aid them. It was a big city with a harbor, and the trench was at sea level. He almost wrote his own name down for the tiered city of his best friend Alador, but he knew his command from the High Priestess had been for him to remain here, and in truth this was where Alador needed him to be, too.
When the last priest had left the table, Jon rose wearily and stretched. He had seven pages of names and locations. He carefully approached the priest who guarded the door between the outer audience chamber and the inner.
“I have the lists the High Priestess commanded. If I may beg a moment of her time, I would like to know what she desires of me now,” Jon stated in a low and somber tone.
The guard nodded and opened the door a small bit, whispering to someone standing on the other side. He had to give Morana credit, she was very careful. How else could you manage a plethora of death mages and devotees? He waited for over twenty minutes before the door opened to admit him.
Jon strode in with the list in hand. He dropped to one knee before the priestess, waiting until she recognized him. He caught a glimpse of her small feet as she approached him down the onyx steps from the dais where she had been sitting when he entered.
“Rise, Jon,” she said softly.
Jon did as he was bid and smiled up at the lovely woman. There was no denying she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was why, when he first started having dreams of her, he thought she was Dethara herself. He realized he was staring and broke his gaze. He knew that attention always pleased her, but it hadn’t been an action with intent by him. She truly was mesmerizing.
“I have finished the list, milady. I will get them to the scribes to encode in a more organized and proper fashion. Everyone is readying for departure when the lexitals can fly.” He gave the stoic report with his head bowed and his eyes on his feet.
“Very good. You could have just left word.” She continued to stand in front of him. “So, tell me what it is that you really wished to say, Praetor.”
Jon swallowed. “Milady, may I be so bold as to suggest something that, perhaps, you have already considered?”
“Go on,” she coaxed.
Jon cleared his throat and set his sights to work his way into favor with his High Priestess. “Could this not be an opportunity for the black flight to feed without restraint or criticism, and thereby taste mortal flesh?” His offer was soft and carefully worded.
“Usually, my advisors warn against them tasting mortal flesh for fear they will turn on their keepers.” Morana voice held the edge of interest.
“That is why this is an opportunity.” Jon ventured a look up into her eyes. He needed to see her reaction in order to gage his ability to convince her of his sincerity. “We all know that the taste and smell of meat is different in a body left lying, than in a fresh kill. Teach them to eat the dead on the battlefield. They will be terrifying to your enemies both in their very presence, and then seen gulping down bodies. Their appearance at a battle will create quite the effect on a soldier’s resolve. Our enemies do not need to know that they only have been taught to eat the dead.”
Morana began to pace, her long, black velvet robe trailing behind her giving the appearance of floating. “I have need of these bodies in the crypt, but your idea has merit.” She continued to walk and think.
“Perhaps only the bodies that are not whole,” Jon amended his suggestion. “While I do not understand what is going on in the crypt, I have seen enough to know you prefer those interred to be whole of limb.” He pulled his eyes away from her and nailed them to the floor. He just put it all together. His heart dropped and he quickly tried to hide his reaction. She was making an army – an army of undead!
“What is amiss, Jon?” The question was suddenly hard in contrast to her soft manner.
“Nothing Lady Morana.” He glanced up and tried to look sickened, which was not difficult. The idea of an army of undead at her command made his own blood run cold. “It is just the thought of feeding mortals to dragons brought a bit of squeamishness.” He quickly attempted to focus her on the ones being eaten and not the ones being set aside. “It cannot be a pretty sight.”
Morana walked back to stand in front of him. She took his chin in her hand again. He could feel her black painted nails bite into his flesh – not painfully, but possessively. “Perhaps it is time for you to rise to Priest, Jon. You have a quick mind and an even manner.” She stared into his eyes. He felt he might drown in their dark pools. “See this done properly and you will rise in my service.” She released him and started the climb back up the dais. When she got to the top, she turned back toward him. “Sort those that are not whole and send them to Senon, who runs the caves. Tell him it is my will that the dragons feed upon the dead to forestall disease and to teach them the taste of our enemies.”
Fallen Tiers Page 10
