War Dragons

by C. K. Rieke

  Elan shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and anger twisted her face. “How dare you. You betrayed us. The only honor you could show us now to redeem yourselves would be to run yourselves through with your own swords, condemning your actions, and begging for the forgiveness of the Great Gods above. I’ve been given orders not to harm you, and rest assured if the queen had sent no such word you would’ve died at our front gate.”

  “Listen,” Gogenanth intervened from behind Kera, his big hands rested on the back of her chair. “I’m equally disgusted to have us here in Sorock. This place holds no place in my heart, but there is a war coming, and your only redemption is to free these children. Sorock is a slave camp, don’t you see that? There’s a whole world out there outside of this madness. These children deserve more, they’ve already been through so much. Let them see what other possibilities exist. Don’t do to them what was done to us... Done to you.”

  “I have no disillusions about this place,” she responded. “I know what our purpose is.”

  “Then you’re OK with that?” Kera asked her.

  Elan nodded. “Sorock is the way it was designed and intended. You think too much of my position. We have existed for over a thousand years and built traditions here. You remember and imagine tragedy as its building blocks, but there is also pride, and dedication. How did the three of you come out becoming three of the best warriors on the sands? And Gogenanth, I’ll hide no surprise when I discovered you to still be alive after all these years. Sorock has created magic out of thin air, we’ve turned mere weak children into the most dangerous of all. Children who turn into adults always remember the bad memories over the good.”

  “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?” Lilaci asked. “They’ve got a firm hold on you, don’t they?”

  “Elan,” Fewn said. “We need an army for the war coming. We don’t want to have to fight you. We could be on the same side again. Revenge is just around the corner.”

  “You’re afraid of our forces, that’s why you’re here. Yes, you will need soldiers but you are fools. There’s no winning for you, even with your dragons. You know Dânoz and the others, they’ll burn these lands to the ground before they relinquish their power. They’ve awoken a dormant evil, and now we will all have much to pay.” She let out a short laugh. “What sort of consequences did you think would come with your betrayal, and you killed Gorlen! No, we won’t join in, and you’re lucky we don’t cut you down here, and hang your corpses on spikes for the children to see.”

  “What do you mean a dormant evil?” Kera asked with worry in her silver eyes. “What are they planning?”

  “Planning?” Elan said. “They’re sending the remaining dragons after you, wherever you go.”

  “The dragons flew off when we killed their leader,” Fewn said. “They won’t come back, at least for a while.”

  “Again, you underestimate the spite of the gods,” she said. “They’ve cast a spell on the dragons after they flew off, and when you see them again, you may not recognize them.”

  “What do you mean?” Lilaci said. Those dragons were wicked and strong, could their magic make them even stronger; more deadly?

  “Exactly what I said,” Elan said, sitting back in her chair calmly. “I think it’s time for you to leave Sorock. You are not welcome here, and we have work to do.”

  “With stolen children,” Burr grumbled.

  “You’re welcome to bring your measly army here and bring action to your cowardly words anytime old man.”

  “I’d be glad to, slaver,” he said.

  A silence filled the room then with heavy tension.

  “We’ll find no help here,” Lilaci said. “Let’s go.” She stood, and the others turned to leave.

  “Elan,” Kera said. “As the only one here who still knows truly what it’s like to be a child, I can see the pain and anguish in the children here. You may think you’re doing what you’re supposed to, to make them strong. But in their eyes, you’re a thing found in nightmares brought to life. You killed their parents, their siblings, their friends. Not the gods. You. You are the monster who tortured their mothers, not Dânoz.”

  Kera stood gracefully and left Elan’s office. Elan didn’t respond. Gogenanth smiled down at the girl as she left, and they all followed her back out into the sunlight of the walled prison of Sorock.

  Chapter Four

  They left the barracks of Sorock in no manner they would have liked. The high walls streaked with thinly curling vines, they only wanted to be stained with fire and brimstone. They wanted the legion of children still trapped inside to flow freely from the opened doors of the encampment. Blood was what they wanted on the blades of their swords.

  But now is not the time, the bigger war is more important than our personal need for revenge, for redemption. Even if it feels like that is the most important thing in the world, it isn’t. The freedom of Sorock would be a victory, but freedom for all takes precedent. And perhaps there’s still some hope Elan will turn and want to help, but I don’t think that’s the case. I need to remember she, like Veranor or anyone in that position, crave power more than anything. That’s the only gift the gods have to give them, is the promise of power and stature.

  The doors closed behind them, and the pair of Scaethers posted as guards gave them familiar scowls as they left. Veranor had returned to the group, and they walked back into the crowded roads of the city. They didn’t say much as they followed Lilaci as she wound around a couple of corners and ducked away into another nook that was partially hidden from the many peering eyes.

  “Did you get it?” Lilaci asked Veranor.

  He nodded, and the others felt a sense of relief. “Ezmerelda should go off and get food for us to eat here,” he said. “She’s the least recognizable of any of us.”

  Veranor pulled a bag from under his cloak, it was the size of his fist and a subtle jingling sound of coins and jewels came from inside. He undid the tie at the top and pulled out some coins with grains of sand clinging to them, it was two orecks and five sanders.

  “Get enough for us to have a feast,” Lilaci said. “And get something special for Kera.” Kera smiled wide up at her.

  Ezmerelda grabbed the coins and dropped them into her bag at her side. She bent her knees and looked at eye level into Kera’s silver eyes. “What would you like? If you could have anything?”

  Kera spun in a full circle with glee. “Can I have something sweet? Is that OK?”

  Ezmerelda smiled wide and nodded at the girl brimming with happiness. She went off with the ringing of clanking coins around a corner and soon the noise had faded. The only sounds now were the whistling of winds overhead and the noisy marketplace a couple of roads to the west. They all sat against the low wall at their back made of mortar and stones not nearly flat enough. But in the shade, they found themselves fading from a need for rest. Their journey had been long and grueling to get back to the place where it all started for Lilaci and Fewn. Lilaci found it difficult to keep her eyelids propped open. She looked through her fading focus and saw that Kera was fast asleep on Fewn’s lap, and Fewn was dozing off too. Then she looked over at Veranor who seemed alert as ever.

  “Go ahead,” he said in a soft tone, resting his head up against the wall at his back. “I’ll stay up.”

  That was all she needed to hear. She found herself soon in a dream of resting in a soft bed with clean linens and a velvet pillow under her weary head.

  A nudge on her arm woke Lilaci and then the intoxicating smell of sizzling, hot meat wafted into her nostrils and the sleepiness was shrugged off in an instant. Her eyelids popped open to see Ezmerelda hunched over at the middle of the group. She was opening a satchel of which the contents were a feast Lilaci hadn’t seen in far too long. A tied, full roast of dark meat, probably from a wild deren, four loaves of fresh bread and a quarter wheel of creamy, nutty white cheese. She licked her lips.

  “Don’t wait,” Ezmerelda said, unfolding the final leather flap of the satch
el. “Dig in!”

  They went in like vultures on a motionless, fresh carcass. Lilaci grabbed the roast and ripped a handful from it, shoving it into her mouth, chewing quickly. Salty, lean yet tender meat slid down her throat as she let out a sigh of ecstasy. She saw Kera shoveling fresh-ripped bread and cheese into her mouth, when Ezmerelda knelt next to her and held out a small pouch of blue cloth, tied at the top with a black strand. Kera grabbed it and quickly untied the top. Pouring the contents of the pouch into her palm, she counted a half-dozen caramels with a thick, buttery-sugar glaze on top. After swallowing the contents in her mouth, she popped one of the caramels in, and a wide smile grew across her face.

  “Slowly,” Ezmerelda said. “Savor it. Don’t just chew it, indulge in it.”

  Kera closed her eyes and let the candy swish around her mouth, as her shoulders relaxed. Once it had fully dissolved in her mouth, she opened her eyes to see the others in the group watching her, and they were all smiling. She had five caramels left and held them out for the others to have some.

  Lilaci reached out, and closed Kera’s own fingers over the caramels, as she smiled. “They’re for you.”

  Another half hour later with their stomach’s satiated from the fresh meal, they began their next move.

  “We’ll have no help from the Scaethers or Elan,” Veranor said. “We’ll have to find another way to amass our army.”

  “We don’t need that wretched lot,” Burr said, running his fingers through his dirty, long hair. “We’re better without them.”

  “We’ll need some help,” Gogenanth said. “We can’t just go to the house of the gods and expect to win in an outright fight. That would be foolish. Even with two dragons. The gods are powerful, and in their home, who knows what manner of devilry they possess.”

  “I wonder...” Fewn said, scratching her hip. “I wonder if Herradax and Kôrran have mated...”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Veranor said. “She was still quite injured last we saw her, and not much time has passed.”

  “She may have healed.” Lilaci brushed her hair back, knocking the sand from it, and tying it in a knot at the back of her head. “Kôrran though, should still be too young I’d imagine. What do you feel, Kera?”

  “I—I feel like I would know, but I don’t feel anything. So I guess not...”

  “What’s next then?” Fewn said, standing up and brushing the sand off her pants. “We just going to sit here?”

  “I was going to ask,” Ezmerelda said, her dirty blond hair flowing over her shoulders and her bronze eyes looking at Lilaci. “If we’re going to be here in the city for a bit, I’d like to go off and discover more about these lands.”

  “What do you mean?” Gogenanth asked with an eyebrow raised. “I will go with you. What do you want to discover?”

  “I’d like to read what I can if the queen would allow it,” she said. “You stay here, watch over Kera. I’ll just head to the palace. See if I can find anything about the gods that might help us... Some clue.”

  “Fine by me,” Lilaci said. “You know how to find us when you’re ready?”

  “I’ll look for the angry mob yelling and cursing.” She laughed.

  Gogenanth shifted in his seat like he wanted to interject, but with a glare from Ezmerelda, he sat back down.

  “We should go speak with Lezeral,” Veranor said. “We shouldn’t wait, as we will need to make our way back out into the safety of the desert before long.”

  “Safety of the desert.” Fewn laughed. “That’s a funny statement I never thought I’d hear. But I don’t disagree.”

  “So, let’s go meet the queen.” Kera stood up, lifting her small pack to her back. “Lilaci, lead the way.”

  Chapter Five

  Passing a couple of corners comprised of stone and mortar walls with dyed cloths hanging from thin poles above, Ezmerelda made her way to the main road—the artery that led to the heart of Voru—the palace of Erodoran. The main road called Horiim Borstrait brimmed with commotion. Children begging for coins with mud-stained faces, grown men running full-sprint down the road yelling some gibberish she couldn’t understand. Yet, there were couples walking hand in hand, while elderly women did the same.

  The cloths of various colors that flowed in the winds above, shaded the crowds below, but an unintentional effect was it cast down a wondrous display of shades onto the road. The thousands of the people upon that street ahead may or may not have known—but they were lit in beautiful shades of yellows, oranges, red and purples—even with specks of green.

  The city may have been one of the most densely populated cities that Ezmerelda had ever been too, but in the chaos, she marveled at the way it strangely functioned properly. Order out of the chaos of it all. As she strode her way through the middle of the road, letting others bob and weave around her, she heard many saying the names ‘Lilaci’ and ‘Veranor’.

  Ezmerelda got many looks from incredulous people, glaring, or awing at her different appearance. It was rare someone from another continent would cross the sea, with the slim to none chance they would make it across alive with the storms. Her tan skin was close enough to the dark skin color of those born under the bright sun of the Arr—but none of them had the thick, flowing hair she did, or the bold tattoos that covered her from neck to toe. Her clothes didn’t match, with her white furs standing out like a candle’s light in a covered tent at night. Many children watched her with mouths agape.

  The crowds grew denser the closer she got to the palace. And upon gazing up at the high-reaching peaks of the golden pyramid, the more awestruck she became. The tall, golden statues of the gods still stood at each of its six sides breaking up the mirrored light of the thousands of small windows on each of its sides. She noticed they had not removed the one of Gorlen.

  The guards noticed her immediately as she approached, their eyes glaring at her from under their light, copper armored helmets, each of them held long spears of fine design.

  “I am Ezmerelda Clawhorn of Essill,” she said, her blond hair blowing over her shoulder to her back. “I wish to browse your stacks, your library if it pleases the queen.”

  “We know who you are,” the guard on the right said. “You will be escorted there by our guards, and the queen will be told of your presence there. I warn you—do not do anything that would merit us to ‘defend’ our palace.”

  “Will do,” she said, walking up the stairs between the guards, winking at the one on the right as she did. He gave a startled look back.

  The others began their journey to the palace. They walked down Horiim Borstrait on their own. As Ezmerelda found her way down the road easily, albeit littered gazes of those aware of her outsiderness, the others became the targets of the crowds, causing a ruckus among the population that made the on-watch guards enter into the fray themselves.

  Lilaci pulled Kera into her tightly, clutching her with both arms. Vegetables flew from out in the crowd at them, with yells and snickers. Full loaves of bread were tossed at them, while others flung themselves before the ones throwing the items. Arguments grew to heated debate all the way down the road.

  “Told you we should have taken another way,” Fewn said, deflecting away a half-dozen apples that came from the right side of the market. “Waste of good food if you ask me. I’d wager these people don’t remember what it’s like to be hungry out there on the sands.”

  “This is the right thing to do,” Kera said from under Lilaci’s arm. “If we are going to go all the way with this, and win, we won’t be doing it from the shadows like the gods do. We’re going to do it in full daylight. If we want the people to be free once more, they need to see us; even if they don’t understand that yet. We are of the people, not the enemy.”

  “Well,” Burr said in his gruff voice, holding his hood over his head, “if we win this, you’re going to be tucked away safely in a palace whether you like it or not.”

  “If we win this,” Lilaci looked down at Kera, “Kera will someday be the queen of
these lands. It will not be me, or Fewn, or certainly either of you.”

  Veranor gave her uncharacteristic scorn with a downturned corner of his mouth.

  Normally he wouldn’t have had any expression at all, but Lilaci thought that comment really did dig at him. After all, he may have changed the color of his banner, but she thought the commander still craved power over all else. If they did win, what would his role be in the after-war?

  Through the fighting, cussing, and hollering in the road underneath the canopy of colorful array, they made their way slowly to the palace. They’d arrived two hours after Ezmerelda, as she’d been in a haste to get there to read as much as she could.

  The pair of guards stood at attention as they climbed the long stair to the entrance, and the city guard strode up on both sides of the party. The eyes of the guards fixed heavily on Veranor first, then Gogenanth, probably because of his sheer size.

  “We’re here to see the queen,” Lilaci said. “We have been welcomed into the city by her and have been called to a meeting with her.”

  The guard on the right lifted his chin high. “As I told the other, do not give us any reason to defend the kingdom from you. We will not hesitate to use force, if force is necessary. You will be escorted in every part of the palace, unless the queen deems otherwise.” He turned to open the gate, it creaked as the heavy, iron door opened inwards. “Welcome to Erodoran, the palace of Queen Lezeral Serinaas. The former wife of the late King Gofgenden Serinaas.”

  Chapter Six

  The first time Lilaci had entered the palace, she was given the gift of the Sanzoral by the gods. It was a gift given to her to hunt Kera. Times had changed much in the last months since then.

  Candles cast their golden lights onto the thick rock walls that led a narrow corridor toward a flight of stairs up ahead. She figured the narrowness of the room was made that way as a defensive measure as a last resort if the palace was to be overtaken. Any foreign army that threads its way to the top of the stairs could easily be met with arrow, spear, or even hot oil or tar. After walking past the rows of melting candles that let their dripping wax fall to the cold stone floor, the warm sunlight glowed down from the top of the staircase. The corridor smelt of damp wax, and stale tobacco, but once they ascended the stairs they witnessed the splendor that was the interior of Erodoran.