Dragons Blight (Valadfar Book 1)

by Damien Tiller

  “ You’re right and that is why I have to join you. Humans cannot face this alone. I must represent the Elfish people and I plan to save them from what would happen if the Dragons ever made it to our island.” Fintan said aware that the peaceful Elves would pose little threat to the Dragons if they commanded Neeskmouth again. They would lose their home once more and even though Fintan had not been born when the Whispering Woods fell he knew the story well and would die before he let anything take his home land from him, even if he himself did not actually want to be there.

  “Fair enough my lad. Well we’ve still got another couple of miles along this path before we should start seeing Dwarfen carvings and then god only knows how long until we can actually get an audience with the Dwarfen king so we might as well start moving again.” Calvin said dropping from the boulder back onto the thin mountain path with difficulties. He still felt worn-out but the sun was almost midway across the sky so they had only four or five hours of daylight left and he didn’t fancy his chances on the mountain path after dark.

  “ Do you think Darcy is happy wherever he has gone?” Fintan asked ignoring Calvin’s request to get moving for the moment. The question had been a little out of character for an Elf. It was something they tended not to think on. That is death itself. They believe that when they die they join the life-stream and flow back through to the Earth Mother who gives new life to them in the form of a plant or animal or even another Elf being born. But Darcy was not from Elvin blood. So he would go to the Sacellum, the golden city in the sky. At least that was the most common religion among the human kind so Fintan guessed that is where he would go.

  “ I don’t know.” Calvin said pausing to help Fintan down from the boulder, which was unneeded but Calvin felt almost responsible for the young pointy eared student he had acquired. “I felt him when I tried to bring him back. He went to the spirit realm for sure. He was with someone. An ancestor it felt like.” Calvin said stepping back realizing he was impeding Fintan’s descent more than he was helping it.

  “So you believe in the spirit realm then ?” Fintan asked wondering just how much of the Earth Mothers teachings had passed into human knowledge in the many years since the Elves arrived on the Alienage Isle.

  “I believe in what I can see and do young one and I know my magic comes from the spirit realm. I know that the energy there comes back here and I know some weird old things can happen because of it. Why do you ask anyway?” Calvin said as he started to scuttle forward carefully trying to find secure footholds in the shifting stones that made up the mountain path.

  “I don’t think I’m dealing too well with it. I.” Fintan paused. “I know it’s been a couple of days now but I’ve never actually seen anyone die before. Have you?” Fintan took his eyes off the path for a moment to look at Calvin for some kind of comfort. But it didn’t come. The old man was too engrossed in where he was putting his feet.

  “ Don’t get to my age without losing a few people lad. I guess you become numb to it, at least a little. I try not thinking about it too much. Not a pleasant thought when you get over sixty. I have twenty years in me at best, likely a lot less than that.” Calvin said. He wasn’t sure what would kill him first now, old age, falling down the side of the mountain, exhaustion, hunger, Rinwid, the Dragon. Hell the list seemed to just go on and on.

  “How do you deal with that ?” Fintan asked taking the lead up the mountain for the first time. If they left it to Calvin’s slow progress it would have added another day’s travel to the journey. The mountain path had grown thin. It was not the main road that most people would have used to get to the Dwarfs, no that would lay the other side of the mountain and be wide enough for horse and cart to get up to collect the ore. The path they traversed was barely wide enough for a mountain goat to clamber up. It seemed like the only thing keeping the shifting stone they walked on together was the feathery Anemanthele Grass that poked out like the mountains very own moustache.

  “Same way I deal with a class full of students. Ignore it most of the time and avoid it where possible.” Calvin said joking and he followed it up with a husky laugh that echoed out across the mountain tops. He knew he should be sad with the loss of Darcy and he was but he had to be strong for Fintan. Joking just made it a little easier, that and with Rinwid’s recession Calvin felt more himself than he had for days. It was like part of him was returning. The two carried on making slow progress as the sun began the decent from the heavens. If they were lucky they would make it to the Dwarfen hall of Goldhorn by nightfall.

  Chapter nineteen – So many Heirs The morning of the 24th Nylar and the day of the fight had come around all too quickly for William. His wounds had been treated as promised by the tyrant Ingaild. If William hadn’t been in so much agony he may have enjoyed the company of the young Neeskmouthain-maid who had been given the pleasure of mopping down the dried blood from Williams wounds, and bandaging them with torn sheets that had been taken from the keeps laundry, but it was all he could do not to pass out from the agony that riddled his body. Not long after the last bandage had been pulled tight William had been fed. There was no one that could have said Ingaild was not a man of his word, at least not without fear of losing their tongue. Fresh fruit that must have been brought in before the harbor had been seized and spiced hung pork had been laid out before the exhausted William and he had inhaled it like air. Once he had finished and still bloated, William had been dragged back down into the dungeons of the keep and kept cramped in a cell. That was where the luxuries ended. Darkness became Williams companion quickly only seeing someone once a day when some foul smelling ogre of a man that must have been in the employ of Ingaild brought down a bowl of slop, which judging from the teeth marks in some of the meatier chunks were leftovers from the royal table. William had a lot of time to think, broken rarely in the hours of darkness between the disturbances of the odd mouse or rat that scurried past. William had wondered how it was that Ingaild could eat so heartily with the city in the state it was. The only though that seemed plausible was that the assaults on Raidaridin had not been as damaging as Harvey had hoped and the supply lines had been reopened already for the first time in fifty years. Neeskmouth may have been about to fall regardless of the Pole invasion but it seemed that across the grasslands in the occupied city of Raidaridin the Pole’s had been doing well for themselves on the spoils of conquest. William had heard lots of noise from outside the high and small slit of a window that was his only source of light, it sounded like carts had been rolling in almost on the hour. Ingaild must have been brining in supplies from Raidaridin and the reconstruction of the city had begun already. William could not see but the shouting and hammering sounds seemed to be plentiful. He was not sure but would have hazarded a guess that more Poles must have arrived or at least some

  Neeskmouthain slaves had been returned to the city to start construction. When he had been escorted into the keep barely a week before the streets were devoid of life. If more Pole warlords had arrived then the nobles of Neeskmouth would have been pushed out from the South-West end of town to the common houses, they would have been unlikely to do so kindly and the commoners would have forced even further down towards the docks in place of Pole dignitary, but other than the loss of life, at least from his position, William could not see Neeskmouth being in a worse state than it was before the battle. If anything, it might even be better for the city with access to the Raidaridin mines now reopen to the people. It would open jobs and would explain the sudden supply of stone that William could hear being hammered away on. Not only that but it would bring an influx of ore that would bring commerce and trade, leading to gold and power the nobles might have more time for arts and crafts. The city might just reclaim its title as jewel of the North. If the Pole army could integrate or command successfully it might even be the best thing to happen to the Neeska in recent history. It would not bring the freedom that William had wanted, but peace would do for now. William pulled himself off the hay pile he had taken to s
leeping on and wiped the slumber from his eyes. His nose still ached and felt swollen but at least the bruising seemed to be on the turn now and showed signs of some healing. His ribs had been bandaged but the itching suggested the wrapping needed a clean to evict the lice that had decided to call it home. Ingaild’s gorilla of a jailer had taken all of Williams finery when he had been cast down into the dampness, other than the now filthy bandages, all William had to maintain his dignity was a pair of off brown drop front woolen trousers that judging by the stiffness and stench to them probably belonged to the previous occupant of the dungeon. William was just thankful that the body had been removed. It was common for Pole prisons to be waist deep in macabre former inmates. So it was likely the cell would only get worse now that the Handson family were not the ones tending it. Williams’ throat was as dry as a blacksmiths apron, he hoped to get a drink before the fight or he would probably collapse through dehydration before he could even lift the sword from the ground. That was if he was given one. His head ached but William was not sure if that was due to the smell in the dungeon, a putrid mix of urine and stale unmoving air, or the lack of light that seemed unable to brighten the cell even during the midday sun. It was either that or it was just due to the wounds he had sustained while trying to fight off the Poles. William prayed it was one from that list and not something worse. Mice and rats often seemed to dart around in the darkness and William knew from his time on the ships that a single rat could lay waste to a whole fleet if it carried with it the plague. All he could hope for was when he got water he would feel better. William wondered what treatment Harvey would have been given. If this was what the Pole’s considered treating a captive well. It would not be a surprise if Harvey didn’t show up to the fight half dead. It would make Williams’ victory all the more easy but it lacked any prestige to it. Fighting a half dead man would just cripple Williams’ already feigning ego. A grinding sound at the door snapped William from his worry and thoughts. The ogre like man had returned and it was time to face the music. William pondered for a second just where that expression had come from and what it meant. After-all, was facing a musician really that scary. He had often sang and danced with them during drunken nights back on Slickrock and found them if anything to be a little fruity and as far away from as intimidating as a field mouse would be to a lion.

  “ Face the wall. Don’t even think of trying anything.” Annar said as he stepped into the room clutching a brown sack that looked like it had once held potatoes. Williams’ tired mind fell from his thoughts once more. He would never remember to ask anyone about the expression. William didn’t bother trying to speak to his jailor. He had tried a few times over the course of the week and had never got anywhere. Even his sharp wit had fallen on death ears. Instead he did as instructed and faced the wall arms out behind him. The sack was pulled down over his head with so much force William thought he might rip through it and end up wearing it as a shirt. Moments later the cold clasp of irons gripped his wrists and the wooden beam was slid around his throat as the stocks we closed shut.

  “Come with me.” Annar said again tugging at the chains almost pulling William over backwards onto his rump. William somehow managed to turn in time. He staggered on blind behind his escort. ‘Slickrock’, William swore to himself, he would do whatever he had to get back there. He had planned to only be a few days when he had rushed away from it leaving some of his many lovers panting at his bedside. William wondered if he would ever feel the warmth of another woman again.

  The sack was whipped from Williams head to reveal Celebration square. Once Williams’ eyes got use to the sudden blast of bright sunshine he took the time to look around. To Williams surprise the Poles had actually brought in granite slabs to replace the statues they had torn down and smashed. Someone had already started to sculpt figures into the stone but it would be sometime before it was clear exactly what they would be but it somehow comforted William to know the city would not lose everything it had once held dear. The fight was definitely a spectacle set up to draw attention and a wooden ring had been constructed temporarily at the site of executions. Thankfully all the bodies had been cleared from the streets and in their place now stood crowds and jugglers. They had turned the ruined city into a carnival. The market had returned to the domed buildings and bunting hung from them in bright colors. A band could be heard in the distance and a crier was calling out in Neeskmouthain about the upcoming fight. It was as if the city had already forgotten the horrors from only a week before and had even stooped as low as celebrating Ingaild’s horrific end to King Harvey. William had hated the man for most of his life and had plotted to free the city from its dictatorship of a monarchy, but even he would never have wanted Harvey’s end to come like this. He had wanted him to stand down. Leave the city and never come back. It was not in Williams’ nature, even as flamboyant as he was, to create such an exhibition of horror, to celebrate a murder like this. William shook himself from his sorrows. This is not how he wanted it to happen but he could not change it. It was out of his control. The city would be freed from the Handson’s and he would finally get revenge for his father’s brutal death. William would have to hold onto that to get through this. William continued to look around the face of the city had changed a lot in his absence. Scaffolding had been erected and work had begun to repair the damage that the mighty trebuchets had wrought on the city. The ash and debris from the dockyards had been swept into massive piles and the roads cleared. William could just make out a few masts of ships in the harbor and none seemed to carry the markings of the White Flags. It would seem like a swift and daring rescue was out of the question. William only recognized one banner from the many and that was of Cassandra. It seemed that the kings’ fleet that had passed by the White Isle just after New Year’s had returned to the city. That ship would serve the city well. William envied the captain of the Cassandra and had planned to take it as his own if he had ever succeeded in freeing the city. It was then William saw him. Harvey. It looked like age had taken him forward years in just a week. His beard was wiry and had grown long, it was as if it had been trying to protect him from the beating he had obviously had. It was no longer groomed and trimmed and looked like a wild red badger that had matted with dried blood. Harvey’s skin seemed loose and hung from his features like a cloth thrown over an upturned chair. He looked almost delirious with glazed eyes that seemed swollen and fixated on the floor. The dirt on his face almost made it hard to see the bruises and broken skin but they were so deep that they could not be concealed completely. Harvey had lost a lot of weight easily twenty pounds or more and he shook continuously. William wondered if Harvey had anything to eat at all since before the siege of the city. William knew Harvey had lost his appetite after sending the people out to their deaths. He could not remember seeing him put anything in his mouth after that and it looked like the Poles had not offered anything up in the time since they had been apart. Harvey too had been stripped of his normal lavish robes and wore similar style trousers to William himself. This showed Harvey’s bare back that had been torn like a sail in a storm. Red trenches lined his back marking the torture he had received from the whip of his captor. William suddenly felt extremely lucky for his treatment. A child could have won a fight against Harvey in this state. This would not be a fight it would be a slaughter but what choice did William have. The crowd blocked his escape routes. If he chose to run he would have to fight through them and risk being taken down by one of Ingaild’s men. If he could somehow avoid the spear in the back and get passed the crowd, then he would have to make it through the maze that was the harbor and dockyards to a ship. Where he would somehow have to prepare it to sail on his own and get safely out to sea. No, his only choice was to do as Ingaild asked. Kill Harvey and hope Ingaild honored his words again, turning William free. Once free William would and he couldn’t believe he was thinking this himself, but he would come back with the full force of the Flags and avenge Harvey. The man had been his lifelong enemy but no man
deserved what had been done to him and a Pole on the throne was worse than a Handson. The city was still not free to vote for what it truly wanted. The laws were still made by one man and justice would never truly come to the people of the city until all its people were equals.

  “Quiet down, and calm down.” Ingaild said as he pushed his way into the ring drawing both the crowds and Williams’ attention. “As I promised to you on the day of occupation” Ingaild paused. “No of liberation, exactly one week later we gather back at the site of the execution of the traitors to Neeska, Today your champions will fight against each other, the pirate king here.” Ingaild said as he pointed to William. “He fights for the honor of us, the Iron Giants, he is no Pole but he will die for our cause so strong is the might of our weapon. Harvey fights to redeem the cowardliness of the Handson linage.” Ingaild continued and pointed towards the shell of a man that had once been Harvey. “This will be a fight to the death. I hope you see it as I do. As a fitting end to incursion of this place and a return of it to its rightful heirs, namely all of us assembled here.” Ingaild said and to Williams’ horror the people seemed to be lapping it up. Some were even cheering him and they did not look of Iron Giant decent. These were Neeskmouthains that had turned coat. “ For years we have been portrayed as villains, but this land was ours long before the Dragons came and long before they made this city with the blood of slaves. Those slaves then refused to return it to its rightful owners and my people remained pushed to the harsh and cold mountains.” Ingaild paced back and forth showering himself in the admiration of the boisterous masses. “Yet you see what I have done for you. I return and I let you live as long as you live under my rule and more so I return this city to a glory it lost during the Great War.” Ingaild said and his words made sense even to William. It might have been the lack of decent sleep but it actually seemed like Ingaild was talking sense. The city looked the best William had seen it and people actually looked happy. It didn’t even feel like the same city he had docked at. The buildings were being repaired and improved, the streets relayed. It did hint of a richer city but the city had been rich during the time of the Dragons that did not mean it was for the best of the people. Ingaild never got to continue his speech. A scream ran through the crowd like a ripple through a pond. The gathering started to scatter and run, they clambered over each other like ants in spilt jam. The clearing begun to empty in moments as people fled scattering the market stores like bric-abrac marbles. The jugglers dropped their balls and torches and joined the fleeing masses. Ingaild turned and William saw his eyes open wide. He could not imagine the Pole King scared, but the look on his face showed whatever had made the crowd erupt had petrified Ingaild as well. It was then the shadow passed over William engulfing the whole of Celebration Square in darkness. The clap of the Dragons wings rattled the chains that bonded William and Harvey. The black Dragon swooped low before landing clinging to the side of a noble’s home. It shattered the brick work of the Dean estate before leaping back into the air where it hovered with its huge wings crafting the air below it into a cushion.