Fallen Tiers

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  “It is time, Jon.” Morana said firmly. “If he does not obey my command, I will have him put down.”

  “What would you have him do?” Jon asked in a formal way. “He is still very young. You will need to make your intention clear,” Jon stated in as drab a voice as he could command. He tried to appear bored with what would soon take place before him.

  “Aniata, bring the treat,” Morana commanded.

  A young woman dressed in the red robes of an acolyte appeared from around the bushes. Jon watched as she eyed the dragons while moving around them pushing a large cart filled with dismembered body parts of the dead. She was accompanied by a huge hound with an ebony coat. It seemed to herd her forward.

  She was fearful, as she should have been. The other dragons had already acquired a taste for the dead. They eyed her cart and their long purple tongues licked their lips. Some leaned in to sniff, and drool fell from their giant maws as they hungered to relieve her of her burden. Her feet appeared weighed down as she moved slowly to Morana and knelt, her eyes to the ground.

  “Milady…” Her soft voice was barely audible. The dog sat down beside Morana.

  “Aniata… rise.” Morana demanded.

  Aniata moved to stand and as she did so she gave the dog a worried look.

  Morana’s eyes followed the young woman’s to the dog. “Oh yes, you have done well Vicktor. You may go.” The dog transformed into an old man before Jon’s eyes.

  He had not known this was possible. What kind of Black Arts was this? The priestess obviously commanded minions beyond the scope of her death mage members. Or, could this be a death mage with spells beyond his knowledge? The man was clothed in the black robes of his sphere when he turned from dog to man.

  “I live to serve, milady,” Vicktor answered. The man bowed low and left them.

  Aniata’s gaze followed the old man’s departure. Only when he left the clearing did she look slowly back to Morana.

  “Now to business. Push the cart forward to Nightmare.” The priestess commanded.

  This was the test. Jon silently prayed that his young dragon would eat, and also stop before he thought to eat the girl. Nightmare must show restraint, but also obedience.

  The other dragons in the flight who were present fell back away from Nightmare. Aniata slowly advanced on the young dragon pushing her cart of rotting appendages, the blood oozing through the bottom to leave a trail across the stones of the prayer circle.

  When she halted, Nightmare dipped his head toward the cart. Jon could hear the intake of breath and he caught the dragon’s eye as it lifted its lips to snarl at the offering. He shook his head in warning.

  To his credit, Nightmare opened his huge maw and buried his face in the cart. When he came up, he had an arm and a foot sticking out of his mouth. He tilted back his head and like a large bird eating a fish that is too big, he literally swallowed the mouth full in two large gulps.

  Jon smiled encouragement. The dragon’s scales had taken on an unusual texture. They honestly looked like they were raising from his body like hackles on a dog.

  Nightmare continued to lower his head, fill his huge jaws and tilt back to swallow. He was taking Jon’s instructions seriously and not chewing more than he had to.

  Jon hid the disgust he felt at what was done here. He needed Morana to believe that he was as callous and cold as she was. Nightmare was efficient and had the cart empty in four large mouthfuls.

  Aniata stood shivering in front of the young dragon when he was finished. Lady Morana let her stand there for several minutes to test the dragon’s resolve. When Nightmare made no move against the acolyte the priestess waved her away.

  “You may go, Aniata,” she said, with what Jon thought was a bit of disappointment in her voice.

  The young girl turned and left as swiftly as she could push the cart without turning it over.

  “May I see to Nightmare before I join you for dinner?” Jon asked Morana. “I would like to make sure he is clean before returning to our cave.” He looked toward the dragon. The beast’s muzzle and chest were dripping in blood and he stank of the dead.

  “Of course, but hurry. I wouldn’t want to delay dinner long.” Morana dismissed the other dragons with a wave of her hand, and turning, headed for her quarters.

  Jon patted Nightmare’s shoulder to get him moving. His hand came away sticky with blood. When the dragon threw back his head each time, the blood had dripped from his maw onto his long neck and shoulders.

  “Come,” he commanded.

  The dragon followed him out of the prayer circle back toward the dragon area and the pool where Jon and he often spent time quietly talking. They had a hidden spot on the backside of the pool in a grove of aspen trees, and he led the dragon to it.

  The moment they were out of sight and sound of the other members of the black flight, Nightmare halted and, sides heaving, vomited up the contents of his stomach. Jon barely had time to move to one side.

  He looked at the mess and scratched his head. They would have to bury it somewhere it would never be found.

  “You said I had to eat it,” Nightmare declared, his scales starting to smooth out. “You didn’t say I had to keep it down.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alador reluctantly dragged himself up the tiers to attend Luthian. He was looking forward to his uncle’s trip to check on the other cities affected by the storm. During his absence, Alador intended to complete the list of things he needed to push through for his plan to overthrow Luthian’s rule.

  He entered the office not bothering to hide his exhaustion. Every one of the Blackguard was pulling double duty to keep order and help with repairs. He looked at his uncle through a heavy-lidded gaze and noticed immediately that he was riled. This meant the younger mage was in for a bad day; his uncle often took such emotions out on those closest to him. He cringed as Luthian fixed a cold and angry look upon him.

  “It is about time you got here. I sent for you over thirty minutes ago,” he barked.

  Alador did not bother to defend himself, snapping back “Some of us have been on the streets trying to help, not sitting in a gilded office making decisions based on reports.”

  “Watch your tongue, Alador, unless you wish it removed,” Luthian snarled.

  “Yes, can’t live too dangerously these days,” Alador smirked. “My abject apology, Uncle. May I ask what has you in such a pleasant mood this morning?” The young mage flopped down in a chair before his uncle’s desk. He was too tired and too fed up to play games.

  “General Levielle,” Luthian spit, flailing the parchment in his hand. He rose from his chair. “He had the audacity to accuse me of trying to have him assassinated. Listen to this…”

  “High Minister,

  As much as I know you wanted your assassin to succeed, she failed. If you want me silenced for good, you might lower yourself to do it personally. If there are other vipers that you plan to cast against me, I will take off their heads one by one.

  As a token of my appreciation for you revealing your intentions toward me, please accept the Death Rune I carved from your assassin’s arm, along with the coat she wore, soaked in her blood.

  Ever the people’s servant,

  Levielle”

  Luthian paced as he read, then spun around to look at Alador, waving the parchment. “The brazen lack of faith in the man shall not be borne.”

  “Are you upset that he killed your assassin, or that he dared to send you a piece of the woman?” Alador met his uncle’s gaze evenly, and his words were calm. He did not rise or look away, his hands clasped in his lap.

  Luthian stopped his grandstanding and stood for a long moment staring down at Alador. “You are pushing my familial allowances.”

  “Uncle, I have worked with you long enough to know that nothing you do is simple. If you had risked sharing something with the General and he refused you, or did not concur, the most logical course would be to kill him.” Alador appeared to relax, leaning back and crossi
ng his legs. He was not yet willing to confront his uncle physically, but he was not going to play along with Luthian’s charade any longer either. He knew exactly how vile his uncle was after he had not denied his actions prior to the storm.

  He gazed down at his clasped hands in apparent indifference. “The army pulled out when we needed them most. There is a reason that one or the other of you did not want the two of you in the same place.” Even though Alador knew Levielle had gone to request permission to assist the seaside villages, he was not going to share that knowledge.

  Luthian flung the parchment down on his desk and returned to his chair. “You are too discerning for my tastes at times.”

  Alador grinned. “Apple to close to the tree?”

  “Yes, and I am not used to it from any but Henrick.” Luthian admitted. He closed the box that held the piece of skin and the jacket and removed it from his desk to the floor at his feet.

  “The fall will come soon. I wish you to bring winter early,” Luthian said, blatantly changing the subject. He pushed the general’s letter to one side and made a show of studying some notes on top of the pile on his desk. “It needs to be heavier this winter. I did not see much impact from my spies with what we attempted last year.”

  “I will not cast any more major weather changing spells.” Alador unclasped his hands and sat up straighter. His refusal to do as ordered might bring on an attack by his uncle.

  Luthian looked up and pinned him with a calculating gaze. “Our agreement for your place, your privilege, was that you would cast the spells I require.”

  “Except, you nullified that arrangement when you failed to share with me that those spells would cause this storm.” Alador stood and put both hands on his uncle’s desk and leaned over. “You lied to me deliberately, and don’t tell me you didn’t know. I knew there was something wrong with that storm the moment I touched it.” Alador straightened. “I am done casting weather spells. You want me to do more? This city could not handle anything stronger than what we just withstood.”

  Luthian leaned back. He did not admit his knowledge in so many words. Like always, his uncle slithered around the subject. “Further uniting the isle was worth the risks we took.”

  “Korpen shit!” Alador hissed. “You’re not out to unite the isle. You want to rule the entire island like some King or Emperor from the tales the elders speak, and you don’t care who you kill to do it. Lady Caterine danced to seal the trench for you. The guard kept the city residents from moving up the tiers on your orders. Who do you think you are hiding this from?”

  “So, that is how it is going to be, hmmmm?” Luthian appeared too calm, and it worried Alador. The older mage rose and slowly went to the bell pull.

  Alador turned to keep him in front of him. What was his uncle doing? He had expected a much more heated discussion then what had just occurred.

  A servant entered. “Yes, Lord Guldalian?”

  “Have Leonard bring down our guest,” Luthian commanded.

  “Yes, my lord.” The servant scurried away.

  Luthian turned back to Alador. “You see Alador, I knew this day would come. You have too much of your father’s damn sense of right and wrong. What the two of you fail to understand is that only works if you make the rules.” Luthian shrugged as he drawled on. “However in this case, my dear nephew, you do not make the rules. I do.”

  Alador’s guard was up and he was watching Luthian’s every move.

  “You will cast the spells I require,” Luthian commanded again.

  “I won’t.” Alador tried to stay firm, but he knew he was missing something. He felt like he was in a chess game and Luthian was two moves ahead of him, yet he could not see it.

  “Ohhh, but you will.” Luthian’s cold smile brought chills down Alador’s spine. “I have brought you a gift. Your gratitude will exceed your love for the people.”

  “I can’t see how any gift would compel me to cast your spells.” Alador’s defense sounded weak even to himself.

  The door opened and Alador turned. There was Mesiande. He sucked air in surprise. She was alive. She had not died in the storm. Relief flushed through him. He wanted to run to her. Catch her up in his arms and spin her around the room laughing with the joy of having her back. However, his eyes fell on her guards and he knew instinctively he must not show how much he cared. The situation was already out of hand just having her here.

  Mesiande walked right past him, her eyes glazed in a look of euphoria. She went straight to Luthian’s side and dropped a demure curtsey.

  “What did you do to her?” Alador hissed, his fists balled up with anger at his sides. He wanted to rush to her, grab her, drag her from this horrid place.

  “She is a rather spirited young thing. Like a good lexital, I fear I had to break her of some of her habits.” Luthian moved a lock of hair tenderly from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Mesiande didn’t flinch, murmur or even move. “I can see your attraction. I myself love a feisty frolic, but I fear it just wouldn’t do for my purposes in this case.” His words slithered over Alador like a snake that had made its way into his bed.

  “Now turn around, my sweet, and say hello to your dear, dear friend,” Luthian oozed. He took Mesi’s shoulders in his hands and gently turned her.

  The young mage wanted to yell at his uncle to take his filthy hands off her, but he held his tongue. Not now… he cautioned himself. Not yet…

  “Hello Alador.” Her words were somewhat monotonous, and there was no reaction to him on her face.

  “Uncle, taking the will of another is outlawed by the council – your council,” Alador spat, seething.

  “Well, yes… but we are not really talking about lawful things now, are we?” Luthian still had his hands on Mesiande’s shoulders, standing behind her and smiling pure malevolence at Alador. “The best thing is you cannot tell anyone, for I assure you that her life would be one of misery and service of the lowest nature if you utter a single word.” He gave his nephew a calculating smile. “However, do as I wish, and she remains an honored guest in my home. She will have pretty clothes, the best food, and she will remain untouched by anyone.”

  “Foul, but well played, Uncle.” Alador stated. “Let’s call it what it is. She will be your prisoner.”

  “Well yes, but she will be one you can visit.” Luthian pointed out with a satisfied grin. He had Alador in his grip and he knew it.

  “It is hardly a visit if she is a puppet with no will or voice of her own,” snarled the younger mage.

  “Ah, see this is where we negotiate. As long as you do everything I request, I will release her will, but you will not be able to see her without guards present. If you take her, the link I have created within her will allow me to kill her.” Luthian appeared very pleased with himself. “If you wish to meet with her alone to sample her sweet charms, well then my spell will leave her as she is now.”

  “That is rape, High Minister.” Alador’s anger was building and he no longer could hide it. He clenched and unclenched his hands.

  “Call it what you will, the offer is there.” Luthian leaned forward and lifted a lock of Mesi’s hair. He sniffed it and taunted Alador. “Sweet…” he breathed.

  Alador literally shivered with anger. His dragon-self threatened to overrun his good sense. He mentally pounded the emotions into submission. He took several deep breaths and tried to get the picture of Luthian’s vile innuendos about Mesi’s fate out of his mind.

  “I will cast your spells when the seasons change,” he acquiesced. Until the plan was enacted Alador had to do anything the man before him wished in order to keep Mesi safe.

  “Now there, I knew you would see reason.” Luthian looked quite satisfied with himself. He squeezed Mesiande’s shoulder and turned her, pointing her toward her guards. “Child, return to your room.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Mesiande left without giving Alador a second glance.

  His heart wrenched at the sight of this demure vision of his young and feisty fri
end. Despite his efforts, he had not protected her from Luthian’s grasp.

  “There is no doubt in my mind any longer… I hate you, High Minister.”

  Luthian gave a mock bow. “Why thank you, Lord Guldalian. I do not need you to like me. I only need you to obey my commands. I hope now my position is quite clear.”

  “Careful, Uncle,” He quoted one of the many sayings Luthian had drilled into him. “Overconfidence has gotten many a mage killed.”

  “Yes, but I will not be one of them. I plan my moves far in advance.” Luthian stated with more seriousness. “You played your game well, but you have lost.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Alador paced in his library, his footfalls almost shaking the floor with their impact. He could think of no way to release Mesiande from the control of Luthian’s spell. He could try a counter spell, but if there was a trap built into it, he could find himself in the same state. There was no choice - they had to move up the attack. He could not go to the council tier for a month and do Luthian’s bidding and tasks while Mesiande was his prisoner.

  Nemara appeared, leaning in the doorway. She squinted to see him better. When she saw his face, she moved closer. “Did she eat it?” Her voice held all the horror of her thoughts.

  “No…” Alador pulled her into his arms. She had misinterpreted his pacing. “Pruatra agreed to see it hatched,” he assured her with a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

  Nemara pulled back and her face showed her confusion. “Then what is amiss?”

  How did you tell a lover, that your other lover was in danger? Alador ran a hand through his hair, pulling it loose from its tie. He just laid it bare. “Luthian has Mesiande.”

  “Oh Gods!” Nemara’s hands went to her mouth.

  “Nemara, I can’t leave her there.” Alador looked at her, pleading for her to understand. “I have to kill him, and quickly - before he can act.”