Cradle of Darkness

by Tom G. H. Adams

  Dragon and Rider responded with equal immediate obedience, turning their attention from the rapidly reforming combatant groups and rallying to Tayem’s side. “Carry what wounded you can,” she instructed “and ride your mounts east to Wyverneth. We must consolidate our defence there.”

  For the most part, the Donnephon responded with cool, battle-hardened efficiency, but some wavered, looks of bewilderment on their faces.

  It is the shock of seeing the royal mounts fall, she thought. Looking over at Enthusarr’s corpse, she saw how her eyes were wide open, fixed in terror.

  What could make such a mighty creature fear for anything?

  She took a hold of herself, remembering her position. “What are you waiting for?” she shouted at those who hesitated. “Are you witless? Don’t give me leave to be disappointed in you this day.”

  “You heard your Queen,” Cistre added and pushed a young male toward his mount.

  Tayem nodded her approval and helped another Dragon Rider to his feet. Blood streamed from a shoulder wound and his arm hung limply. His face was twisted in a rictus of pain, and Tayem knew that if he survived this day, he would never use the arm again.

  Quassu returned to her side, and she boosted the man into the pillion saddle, rising to the pilot position just as a rain of Cuscosian bolts began to descend upon them. Crossbows did not have the range of Dragonian longbows, so the fact that they faced this renewed assault meant the enemy were close.

  She surveyed the scene from her elevated position as she detached the large shield at Quassu’s side. Jaestrum had survived, as had the majority of the dragons.

  What had caused the invisible assault to cease?

  She could read the shock evident in Quassu’s demeanour, the way he looked warily from side to side, as if anticipating another attack from the ether.

  “Be calm, my loyal steed,” she spoke in his ear, “you shall be avenged. I swear this too — I shall protect you and all your remaining family.”

  They were comforting words she didn’t know if she could fulfil, but it was enough to pacify the dragon, and he rose to the air without further misgiving.

  As Quassu gained altitude, she saw the extent of the damage inflicted on her army. The regal dragons lay in unnaturally contorted positions, many half buried in the ground as if they had sought to excavate a way of escape from their unseen tormentors. She hated leaving them like that. They deserved an honourable funeral. Instead, they would become meat for Etezora’s abhorrent table. Around them, stricken Donnephon bodies numbered in their dozens. Sesnath knew how many more lay within the woods. The Dragon Riders had lost almost their entire contingent of archers.

  The Cuscosians must not be permitted to take any more.

  She directed Quassu over the woods, sounding the retreat on her horn. Her forest-warriors would know what to do, and she was confident they could dissolve into the undergrowth and make their way back to Wyverneth. Would that she had time to form a robust defence against the advancing Cuscosians, for as she observed the enemies reformed ranks on the plain, they seemed to form a countless number.

  We are confronted with the prospect of our extinction. The thought brought with it a deep dread in her psyche, and she sought to quell it by tapping into what remained of the Hallows energy. Yet it seemed the dark well’s water was empty for now. At least, if not empty, then temporarily drained, awaiting resurgence from abyssal springs. And in that dormant condition, in a state of mind that saw it free from Hallows influence, she felt a revulsion that rocked her to her core.

  I have been fuelled by the same force that motivates Etezora and her accursed House, she thought. Was it this that drove my impetuous response during the meeting hours before? Am I somehow partly responsible for this atrocity? Darer and Cistre had warned her, and she had chosen to ignore them.

  Tayem shook in her saddle, the combination of grief, dismay and increasing guilt conspiring to overwhelm her.

  No — I shall endure!

  The command she directed at herself served to pacify the raging emotions for now. Yet the day had not yet seen the full depths of her sorrow. What awaited her and the House of Donnephon would flense their ragged souls to the bone.

  25

  A maelstrom of deceit

  Like his sister, Eétor was not adept at containing his anger and frustration. So when Captain Torell read out the message conveyed by messenger dove regarding the failure of the katapultos on the Dead Zone plain, he could not restrain himself from smashing his fist down on the throne room table. “What you’re saying,” he fumed, “is that test firing of the katapultos has identified an inherent fault in the firing mechanism?”

  “Yes M’lord, it is not what we would expect from usual wear and tear under these circumstances. According to General Dieol, the additional stresses of the repeated firing caused the spring retaining bolts to shear.”

  “That’s all very well Captain but — ”

  “They fixed the problem, of course,” interrupted the Captain.

  Eétor glared at him, the man’s arrogance at interrupting him adding to his ire.

  Torell, realising his indiscretion, apologised. “No matter,” the Praetor continued. “I applaud their swift action. But you said it was the same fault on each machine. That is suggestive, is it not?”

  “In my opinion — yes, M’lord. After inspecting the remaining katapultos here at Cuscosa, it seems the bolts are constructed from standard steel-cryonite alloy, and should not have failed. However, closer inspection reveals small cracks in and around the fractures.”

  “You spoke with Chief Engineer Nalin?” questioned Eétor.

  “He suggests that exposure to extremes of temperature may have caused the unexpected brittleness in the katapultos.”

  “But he knew we would use tar-gum grenades. Is he not aware of the engineering implications?”

  “He blames our chemical technician. Says his new recipe burned hotter than the previous concoction.”

  “And you doubt him?”

  “Yes, M’lord. The chemist was adamant the tar-gum should have burned at the same maximum temperature. His new recipe simply made the stuff easier to ignite.”

  Eétor pursed his lips and took a deep breath. “So, the treacherous stonegrabe is not telling the truth. Is there any proof of sabotage?”

  The Captain shook his head. “No, only a strong suspicion. Since my gunners replaced the original bolts, there haven’t been any breakdowns.”

  Eétor signalled his adjutant to step forward.

  “Yes Praetor?”

  “Summon Grizdoth, I need to charge him with a task most suited to his talents. He is able to uncover things that others miss.”

  Eétor and Torell were still in conference when Grizdoth entered the chamber.

  “You sent for me Lord Eétor?” Grizdoth said. The man slunk forward as if he were a shadow. Eétor would not normally have countenanced employing a southerner. He had an aversion, admittedly irrational, to those whose appearance bore the characteristic signs of those sun-scorched lands, but Grizdoth’s skills were invaluable.

  “Indeed Grizdoth,” Eétor said. “What is your intelligence regarding the stonegrabes, particularly their leader, Nalin Ironhand? Are they to be trusted?”

  Grizdoth paused for a moment and responded. “You mean beyond the normal caution we would exercise for such snivelling troglodytes?”

  Eétor raised an eyebrow as Grizdoth continued in his inflected tone.

  “They keep themselves to themselves,” he said. “Nalin runs the workshops efficiently, and they seem to work hard. I do however suspect subterfuge.”

  “What evidence?” asked Torell.

  “Only circumstantial proof at this point. I am aware Nalin and his minions make more frequent visits to Kaldora Prime. Also, the increased goods we allowed Nalin to take have not resulted in a corresponding increase in profit. It could be the Kaldorans are scything off more than their usual commission. Moreover, the Kaldorans are known to deal in smugg
led goods. I wouldn’t be surprised if they are shortchanging us and smuggling the excess across the eastern border. In any case, I asked the Captain of the Castle Guard to pay closer attention to the stonegrabes’ movements. As yet, however, there is nothing untoward to report.”

  Eétor raised his hand. “If we could incriminate Nalin in a conspiracy against the throne of Cuscosa, it would be cause enough to bring forward our move against that ale-swilling trog, Magthrum.”

  “But M’lord,” interrupted Torell, “that would mean massing a sizeable army beyond that which bolsters the north-eastern trade route.”

  Eétor smiled. “Not necessarily. We could accomplish a Kaldoran defeat using a little subterfuge and a small but highly trained fighting unit. But I am getting ahead of myself. Grizdoth, find me evidence of this treachery, if treachery it is. I will need a little more than hearsay to invoke what I have in mind.”

  “Yes Praetor,” Grizdoth said. “I believe Nalin is making a trip to Kaldora this evening. I will take the opportunity to search his workshops once he is gone. Perhaps the other stonegrabes will be more willing to talk without their master looking over their shoulders too.”

  “Go to it, then. Let me know as soon as you glean further information.”

  As Grizdoth departed Eétor turned to Torell. “Captain, gather a battalion of your best soldiers. We must prepare for a rapid, strategic strike against Kaldora Prime. If our so-called friend did indeed sabotage the katapultos, then imagine the sense of irony if the very weapons he damaged bring down complete destruction on his people.” He picked up a garapple from the well-stocked fruit bowl on the table and took a large bite out of it. “I presume Nalin is unaware of our suspicions?”

  “Nothing beyond our displeasure at the failed bolts, no,” Torell replied. “But there is one thing I am unsure of.”

  “Yes?”

  “The stonegrabe’s reason for sabotaging the katapultos. I know these cave trogs are sometimes mischievous for mischief’s sake, but why would he do such a thing? His relationship with us has stood strong for over ten sols.”

  Eétor pondered the Captain’s question. “Maybe he knows more of our plans regarding Magthrum than he lets on. Perhaps he is a purveyor of information as well as goods — despite his oath of allegiance to Cuscosa.”

  Torell seemed to accept this hypothesis and excused himself from the Praetor’s presence, obviously eager to ready the battalion and machines required for Eétor’s prospective plan.

  Eétor was left alone in the throne room, and he took the opportunity to seat himself on Etezora’s throne. His sister would have raged at this affront, yet she was not present, having engaged in a foolhardy quest to pursue Tayem and her remnants into the uncharted lands of the north. He stroked the gilded arm of the throne and imagined himself seated there as ruler once more. The prospect brought a smile to his face. It could well be that circumstances conspire to remove her as an obstacle from my path, he mused. But now is the time to be patient. I will wait for Grizdoth to do his work, and for Etezora to succeed or fail in her insane revenge battle with the dragon Queen.

  The only random piece in this game of treachery and subterfuge was the wizard. Zodarin had outlived his usefulness, and it was time to make firm plans for his removal. Eétor knew just the characters to call upon for this service, and irony was being heaped upon irony as he contemplated using some of Nalin’s fellow countrymen for the task.

  ~ ~ ~

  Nalin discretely packed the last basket of disguised machine parts for the cave-crawler onto his small cart and pulled a tarpaulin over the load. He moved to the front where one of his loyal stonegrabes hitched up two bighorn striders to the yoke and reins.

  “Is all ready?” Nalin asked Buzmith Oakstone, his trusted works foreman.

  “Yes Master, we will divert the irrigation ducts and flood the workshops tomorrow. Everything will be destroyed. We will make it appear like an accident.” A wisp of sadness crossed his face as he confirmed the plan, and it did not go unnoticed.

  “You are very attached to the workshops, aren’t you?”

  Buzmith shifted his weight from foot to foot. He found it difficult to express himself at the best of times. “We’ve designed and built so much in this place — machines, weapons, wonderful new vehicles. I can’t help but mourn its loss.”

  Nalin put one hand on his shoulder. “My heart weighs heavy too. But our time here comes to an end. Now be sure to make it look convincing. I still think you’d be better making yourself scarce after you’ve done it. We don’t know how the Cuscosians will take this news, and once it becomes obvious my disappearance is permanent, you will be at great risk.”

  “I will not overstay my welcome. But it is best I remain for now and cover your tracks. It will give you time to complete your journey to Regev with your family.”

  Nalin looked at his wife and son who now approached, carrying the last of their belongings. They placed them underneath the cart’s tarpaulin and seated themselves on the riding plate. “Ellotte hasn’t seen the caves of home in many a season,” he said to Buzmith, “and Palimin has never entered the gates of Kaldor Prime. It will be a momentous homecoming.”

  “You’d better be on your way,” Buzmith said in a low voice, so Ellotte couldn’t hear. “You’ll be travelling much slower than usual. Best to put as much distance between yourselves and the castle as you can.”

  Nalin embraced the prime-charge hand and climbed up to join his family. “You have been a loyal employee, Buzmith,” he said by way of farewell, “and I look forward to seeing you at Regev before the month is out.”

  “Make sure you leave a barrel of ale uncorked for when I arrive,” Buzmith replied and lifted his hand in a wave.

  Nalin shook the reins, and the striders ambled forwards with a purposeful yet ponderous gait.

  “Buzmith will return eventually too?” Ellotte asked. “This holiday of ours is more than it seems, isn’t it? We’ve packed most of our belongings.”

  “It is,” Nalin replied. “Far too dangerous for us to remain here, and I will certainly feel better once you two are safely housed in Regev. Did you include the sealed wooden crates?”

  “Yes, they were lighter than I thought. I expected machine parts to weigh more.”

  He knew she was fishing, but it wouldn’t pay to tell her he’d packed them tight with jarva-leaf. His workshop wasn’t the only thing he’d miss about this place. Still, he could start another plantation in Kaldora. He had plenty of seeds, and the rich ash north of Lake Dorthun would be an ideal site.

  “Palimin is excited about seeing his Grandgrabe again,” Ellotte said. She was a prattler, that was for sure.

  When Nalin didn’t respond, she looked at her husband, no doubt recognising his brooding scowl for what it was. He wasn’t telling her everything, but she knew now was not the time to ask. It was also beyond doubt that she’d raise the subject once they were further on their way.

  Sol was setting as the cart clattered over the castle cobbles to the maingate, Sol-Ar having disappeared over the horizon an hour earlier. They would make their way onto the main route north via Hallow’s Creek to the great limestone gorge that was home of the Kaldorans. Nalin waved to the guard patrol returning to the castle and whipped up the striders more vigorously. The guards accepted his departure for now. He couldn’t guarantee that would continue for long.

  The journey continued in silence, but after travelling for about an hour Ellotte broached the subject of Nalin’s melancholy.

  “What is it Husband? Why do we leave so suddenly?”

  Nalin looked at the mountains looming ahead but said nothing.

  “What has happened to make you behave this way, you have hardly said a word all week, and Palimin thinks you are angry with him.”

  Nalin sighed. There’d be no stopping her questioning. Perhaps now was the time to reveal all. “I am no longer trusted in Castle Cuscosa,” he said. “I overheard the Cuscosian Council conspiring against not only me, but our entire peop
le. It seems their ambitions are not limited to overthrowing the dragon folk.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I have, at the request of Magthrum, been gathering information on Cuscosian intentions.”

  An incredulous look crossed Ellotte’s face. “You’ve been spying?”

  Nalin ignored the question and continued. “I also sabotaged the mighty katapultos my stonegrabes constructed.”

  “But why?”

  “I fear they will be used against our people.”

  The news was too much for Ellotte to absorb. “Oh Nalin,” she sobbed. “Why couldn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you worrying, I would have got you out of the castle sooner, but the Cuscosians’ suspicions might have been raised. With Etezora and half her army gone, I needed to engineer our departure more carefully. Tonight should not arouse suspicion, but once I fail to return my stonegrabes may suffer.”

  “Surely they will leave too.”

  “I gave strict orders that they do so. I only hope they obey my commands.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Back in the castle courtyard, Grizdoth smiled inwardly as he watched Nalin’s disappearing form. He’d not managed to hear every detail of Nalin’s exchange with Buzmith, but the portion about destroying the workshops was incriminating enough. “At last,” he said under his breath.

  He left his vantage point and called into the guardroom on his way to Nalin’s dungeon workshops. Traversing back to the castle proper took a good five minutes, long enough for Nalin to disappear into the darkness. No matter, Grizdoth thought.

  He found the Captain with his feet up on a table. “The Praetor requests you accompany me to search the Kaldoran workshops,” he said to the man.

  The Captain nodded and summoned two guards. Together, they descended the wide spiral staircase to the Kaldoran workshop. Grizdoth was eager to prevent Buzmith’s sabotage, and he already feared Eétor’s wrath at not intervening in Nalin’s escape. He needed to bring his master something substantial by way of mitigation. Then again, he thought, I’m a spy, not a man at arms.