“So it has been verified? The beast rumored to be in Kero is indeed one of the great drakes of the North?” Perceval asked, sitting at the table and looking around at the company. “You’re sure it’s not that creature we saw in the street?”
“Most assuredly,” Cecil responded. “There were many visual sightings, and I think the condition of the town proper is a testament to this fact.”
“So how could a dragon of the North be down here so far south?” Cornelia asked.
“I think the question really should be, what kind of drake was it?” Diamedes said, arching his brows and looking around.
“What other kind could there be?” Fulbert asked.
“What color was the beast?” Diamedes asked, looking at Cecil.
Cecil shrugged. “It was too dark to tell, though those who saw it say it was black as the night—almost invisible it was against the dark sky. Not grey, like the creature you saw outside.”
“Commander, I wonder if it would be possible to question a few of those who witnessed the drake?” Diamedes asked.
“I don’t see why not. What exactly are you looking for?” Fulbert asked.
“The old man himself doesn’t know what he’s looking for,” Jezebel said mockingly, and then took a sip of wine.
“Let’s not start that debate again,” Perceval said with a sigh, setting his own cup on the table.
“Sounds like this is an old argument?” Fulbert asked.
“No argument,” Jezebel muttered. “The old man managed to use his position to worm his way into our group.”
“Worm indeed!” Diamedes exclaimed.
“No need for false offense, royal historian,” Basil said. “We all know your predilection for documenting historical deeds, and we all know the discovery of a dragon here in our own realm of Ulatha is history in the making.”
Several nodded, and even Diamedes chuckled good-naturedly, all of which seemed to anger Jezebel more as her verbal barb quickly fizzled away.
“Pardon me for asking,” Olivia said, looking towards Basil. “But may I inquire where the Lady Gemma is? She was in attendance a week ago. I thought she was representing our duke personally in the matter?”
“Well, she was,” Perceval started.
“Blast it, man, just say it,” Basil interrupted. “We were fortunate enough that Sir Perceval here convinced Duke Uthor to keep his cousin in the capital for the time being. Sir Perceval now personally represents the duke.”
“Thank Agon!” Jezebel said as she rolled her eyes.
“And you, Basil, represent the law in this matter as chief investigator of the Crown,” Perceval said to Basil, but he looked and frowned at Jezebel.
“Please, no more formal titles,” Jezebel mocked. “We all had enough of those in our last audience with your duke and his tedious cousin.”
“I don’t know who you are—” Commander Fulbert all but stood, angered by the apparent lack of respect towards his nobles.
“Do sit down, Commander,” Perceval interrupted. “We’ve had three days of rather informal travel with the Kesh representative, and it’s better if we just drop the formalities for now.”
“Yes? What is it?” Olivia said, perhaps a tad too loudly, to the tavern’s owner, Gazel, as she approached the table.
“Begging your pardons, me lordships, but I’m so sorry to inform you that the split pea soup will have no ham. We used some beef we had dried out, but I’m afraid all our stock of smoked and dried meat is gone and the hogs have all run off! We have plenty of bread, however, since our granary is still intact.”
“You must be kidding me,” Jezebel said, and Olivia noticed that the pleasant demeanor of the woman when they first met was obviously gone. For whatever reason the woman decided she didn’t need to deal with pleasantries amongst this group. “Well, of course, we will have bread, as I guess the wheat didn’t run off with the pigs.”
“That is quite all right, Gazel,” Cecil said, winking at Olivia. “We will be happy to dine on your split pea and beef soup, and the bread is delicious.” He smiled.
Gazel ran back to the kitchen as Jezebel scoffed and pulled a slab of cheese off her knife to eat.
“Where were we?” Diamedes offered rather diplomatically.
“Never mind,” Commander Fulbert said, finally leaning back and taking a deep breath before grabbing his wine cup and motioning for a servant to refill it.
The soup came, and some small talk ensued, during which time Commander Fulbert leaned over to Olivia, who sat between him and Cecil on one side of the table. “What news from your woodsman friend?” he asked in a whisper. “Why does he not join us?”
Olivia leaned back and returned the whisper. “He is busy still with the survivors. I invited him as you asked, but he said these dealings are for us city folk. He said something about consulting with the Arnen. Do you know what he meant?’
“Pagans those Druids of nature are. Pay them no heed, Hand Olivia, and stick with the order. Always be in the service of our lord, Duke Uthor, and you will be fine. He is, however, rather handy with that bow, and I hope he will accompany us soon.”
Olivia meant to ask more, but the last of the supper had been served and eaten, and the plates and bowls were being cleared from the table, when Sir Perceval spoke. “Now comes the time for action, then. I was initially ordered to accompany another group to determine the outcome of your mission, Commander Fulbert, and then relay that to our duke. However, it is obvious now that the duke’s first commissioned party has met with foul play, and it would seem that this creature countered our quest with the destruction of half of Tannis. Does this sound about right?”
“You would be correct,” Commander Fulbert answered. “Our efforts to locate the initial quest failed as we were attacked by the dead and that foul beast you saw outside. Only the divine intervention of our hand, Olivia, allowed us to flee from their trap in the Kero Swamp and return here. Later they caught up to us and attacked the town proper. Hand Olivia was wounded, poisoned actually, in the first attack, and lay in a coma for a few days before she returned to us and again saved us from the dead during the second attack,” he said almost reverently.
Olivia all but blushed upon hearing about her deeds of importance, as she was still young and only a newly initiated member of the order. She noticed Jezebel staring at her intently, but Olivia’s eyes were drawn to Cornelia. The large, tall blonde woman’s eyes returned Olivia’s gaze, trying to ascertain if the commander’s story was exaggerated in the least.
Finally, Olivia spoke up. “I’m most honored by the commander’s kind words, but I did only my duty in the service of Astor, as I’m sure any initiate would do in the same situation,” she said as she returned the intense gaze from Cornelia. She felt somewhat gratified when the fist turned her gaze away to look at Commander Fulbert.
“Well, duty or no, we are most grateful, and now seeing a Fist of the Order here in Tannis allows me to feel much better about our situation,” Commander Fulbert said.
“And what of our situation?” Basil asked. “I feel as if we are back to square one all over again. Especially if what you say is true, then this dragon from the North could return to Tannis, or, worse, fly off to Utandra at any time.”
“Spoken like a true inquisitor,” Perceval said. “So what is our plan?”
There was an awkward silence before Jezebel spoke. “Obviously we don’t wait for the drake to come to us—we seek it out and find it first.”
Perceval nodded, and Fulbert grunted in the affirmative. “Well, no doubt our lord would want us to take action and not just return yet again empty-handed, with no answers and few details,” Basil said.
“I’d not wait either then,” Diamedes said quietly. “The creature will return sooner rather than later.”
“I’m not sure how you know that, old man, but I, for once, agree with your assessment,” Jezebel said. “We will need help, though. Do we have more fighters in Tannis to assist us?”
“Well, just my
men-at-arms . . . and there is one of those rangers as well, who wounded the beast outside, allowing Hand Olivia to slay it, and there may be a scout or two left to help guide us into Kero,” Commander Fulbert said, a pensive look on his face.
“Good—then I will see who else we have in town tonight, and we can leave first thing in the morning. What say you, Perceval—would this be acceptable to your nobles?” Jezebel asked.
“I think so, Jezebel. We could use a day’s rest, but, as our good historian indicated, speed may be a factor here, and it’s already been several days since the attack. Another attack could come at any time—tonight even, for all we know,” Perceval said.
Several of the group nodded, and Perceval dismissed them for the night to prepare. Olivia sensed that the Fist Cornelia was going to approach her, when she was intercepted by the royal historian, Diamedes. “May I have a moment of your time?” he asked politely, but gently grabbed her by her arms and guided her outside.
Once alone in the fading light of sunset, he motioned to his pack.
“What is it?” Olivia asked.
“I have something for you,” Diamedes said, searching in his pack.
“What?” she asked, looking around conspiratorially. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, I just want to save your life,” Diamedes said gravely. “It is in serious danger, Hand Olivia.”
Chapter 16
Disclosures
Qui Amatha awoke from a fitful slumber after resting from her exertions in the human settlement that she half-destroyed. She had plans to return and finish the job once she was sure that the human resistance was all but accounted for. Qui Amatha was no young hatchling newly arrived to Claire Agon, and neither was she a transplant from Dor Akun. She was chief amongst the draconus chornus species; the black drakes were her kind.
She had lived on Agon for many a millennium, ever watchful and always cautious, for she had learned through experience long ago that the humans, while cattle in every sense of the word to her kind, were occasionally gifted or endowed enough to represent a threat to her and her kin. She especially loathed the magic-wielding humans, who used the charged particles streaming from their central sun to perform feats far beyond what any normal human should be able to do.
She had always preferred the wet marshlands that inundated the central wet regions to either side of the equator. The equator proper had many deserts and a few jungles to punctuate the landmasses on Agon. The Blues preferred the arid regions, and she was content to leave those electric plagued sisters of hers to their vast but mostly desolate domain.
Immediately she sensed she was alone. Sivern should have returned by now, and she had looked forward to making him wait for her. She most assuredly missed his flattering prose that he would woo her with had he been in her presence. She closed her great eyes again, the lids closing from side to side instead of from up to down, and listened intently for any sign of his presence.
Oftentimes a drake would be able to hear the shallow breath of another or even a drone from a great distance away. This ability was enhanced, of course, by her species, but, despite her keen hearing, she could not detect his presence anywhere.
She immediately became suspicious, as most jealous drakes are when dealing with a popular drone, and she wondered if the High Queen had summoned him back to her realm. She dismissed the idea quickly, understanding that her Great Red Queen would not risk Qui Amatha’s wrath. She was no normal black drake, and the High Queen understood this.
There was nothing to do for now. Sivern would return soon. Perhaps he was either enjoying the killing too much or he came across some problems with the humans; she knew that the drone would not risk her anger by returning with the mission uncompleted. Still, she felt a wicked shiver along her spine as the thought of the offensive humans came to her mind. They had better not interfere, or her consequences would be worse than just death.
No, she would give him a bit more time; then, if he did not return, she would fly to the human settlement herself and wreak havoc with the humans till she was content. Then she would feed again. Life as a drake was good.
Markus had eaten his meals in the inner sanctum and had even had the servants bring him a chamber pot to use; despite the crudeness of his actions, they had complied and complained not a word.
His discussion with Olivia was most unpleasant and awkward. She didn’t say much, but he knew she had some knowledge of what was happening around her. He wondered if she had overheard any of his conversations when she was in her coma, and if so, how. The drugs she was given each day were enough to make a horse sleep, not to mention a human. Still, she did not act like any hand he had ever initiated, and he wondered long and hard about with whom she was speaking the day after they had made her a Hand of Astor.
Oh, she didn’t see him, but he had crept up to the alcove door from the hidden passageway to a subterranean escape tunnel that they had built but never had to use. He heard her talking to herself at first, but the conversation seemed two-sided, though he could hear only her side at the time. Then she returned from a quest, where she was supposed to have been sacrificed for the greater good of the order. Instead of returning as a martyr, she was a hero. The soldiers and servants who survived Kero all but worshiped her, and that act alone bordered on the blasphemous.
He felt more than a little out of synch with his own faith, and he was questioning all that he had done and all that had occurred. Then the foul Kesh spy returned.
“What do you want?” Markus asked the man.
“News—they say you spoke with her,” the black-robed spy retorted.
“I’m surprised you survived the attack in town. Did you see the dragon?” Markus asked, ignoring the question.
“Yes, I saw it and did nothing,” the man said.
“I find it hard to believe you could have stopped it,” Markus said.
“We have something special prepared for the drake. I can most assuredly inform you that I could have stopped it at any time, but the attack was for the greater good. You profited mightily by the destruction of the nobles in town, while your precious temple remained intact and in good order.”
“That was no thanks to you or your kind,” Markus said bitterly.
“Still, you made a promise and you broke it.” The voice changed, sounding more than a bit irritated and angry.
“I did no such thing and made no such promise. She was here, but she came to on her own accord and fled. I told you as much in my missive.”
“Yes,” the man said gently this time. “I received your letter, and I am sure you had nothing to do with her fleeing your grounds, despite the fact that she is your hand. You command her in all things now, do you not, Master Markus?”
“No. Well . . . Usually that would be true, but she is taking orders from someone else. She suspects me, and now she doesn’t trust me. I would see her succeed, if not for the destruction of the order. Your plans are becoming unwieldy now. It’s time to adapt.”
The other man had walked over to Markus and sat down beside him as if deep in thought. Markus had not bothered to make eye contact with the man and almost welcomed a dagger in his own back to ease his passing and pain of betrayal. Eventually he would have to answer to the Supreme Patriarch in this matter, but until then . . .
“Adapt sounds positive to me now. Perhaps with the town destroyed and the nobles routed, there is no need to dispense with the hand. She could have united the order and the nobles again, bridging the gap, so to speak, between your factions, but if she had done that the truth of the war would have remained hidden from the people. You are still dedicated to revealing the truth, are you not?” he asked.
Markus thought for a moment on his motive for agreeing to this wild, cockamamie plan of theirs. “Yes, the nobles must be held accountable for the war and their desire to minimize the order. Astor serves Agon, and Agon serves the people. They must know what is happening.”
“Good,” the man said, placing a hand on Markus’s shoul
der. “Then we shall allow your hand to live after we kill the dragon. You will present our proof to the Supreme Patriarch, and with our support your order will confront Duke Uthor and his ruling class. Agreed?”
Markus looked for the first time at the Kesh spy. This was the first time the man articulated the plan as well as used the duke’s name. Markus understood that the Kesh wanted to overthrow the duke’s kingdom, which bordered on the west of Kesh proper, but he wasn’t sure why they distrusted the nobles so much.
Markus understood that the Kesh were more than a little power-hungry, but they and their sorcerous kind could be managed properly by his order. Divine power would always trump arcane power. He truly believed that and his own Hand Olivia all but proved that point. He just didn’t plan on her being one of his sacrificial pawns.
“Fine—do your deed, but spare our hand. My servants have informed me that the Fist of Utandra has arrived in Tannis.” This was a direct reference to Cornelia, who acted in a major role as enforcer of the faith. She had a well-earned reputation and was more than feared by the Kesh, and they did not scare easily.
The other man took his hand off of Markus and stood for a moment. “I will handle the local matters quickly. You be prepared to play your role when we return to Utandra. No more mistakes,” he said menacingly, and Markus took a small measure of comfort in the other man’s discomfort.
The other man strode away, and he heard his servants locking the sanctum doors yet again. Markus would stay here until the deed was done. Perhaps, however, he had saved Olivia’s life, though he would never count on the Kesh to keep his word. In the end whether she lived or died the order was of supreme importance. It was the only thing of import, or so Markus thought at the moment. Olivia, and indeed any other Hand or Fist of the Order, was expendable next to his higher cause.
Olivia and Diamedes found a small room in one of the half-destroyed buildings that was empty and abandoned for the present. They both sat on some rubble that had collapsed into the room from the wall. It was a bit drafty, but the summer evening felt good for a change.
The Black Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 1) Page 18