His search took him down two flights of stairs—hard work. Scurrying along the hallway, he passed a familiar open door: the one that gave access to the caves below. Voices filtered up the stairway, angry dragons arguing. Fang started down. At the bottom he saw light coming from down the hall. Following it, he discovered a dungeon. He could see five dragons, their bulk filling the foyer, no room for even a creature as small as he to pass.
He crept as close as he could. Looking up to see the dragons’ faces so far away, yet so frighteningly large, was dizzying. Queen Jazmonilly was one of those arguing. “They should be put to death.”
Then Zim. “We can’t just kill them.”
“They just killed Symbothial Accorterroza, may Drakon protect his soul.”
“We don’t have the full story.”
“There is no full story, son. He must have discovered them trespassing. God knows how they got in in the first place. Symbothial probably confronted them and was attacked.”
“Mother, I’m at least saying we should consult Agmunsten first. We don’t even know who these two are. I sense she’s a realmist. The panther, as we all know, is of a particular breed that has been extinct for a very long time.” Zim said no more. All the dragons present knew what the panther symbolized, but none wanted to confront it. In addition, Zim recognised Bronwyn’s symbol. He could not yet tell his mother, it may throw distrust over any decision Agmunsten would make, if he woke up.
A third voice dared place itself between the arguing royals. “You are upset, my Highness, and rightly so, however we must exercise patience. If we kill them without at least an explanation, we are no better than the humans think we are. As one is a human, Agmunsten must be consulted. In any case they cannot escape our cells, realmist or not. Let them stew awhile, and think about what may happen, whilst we discuss the issue.” Queen Jazmonilly bared her teeth.
“I would see them put to death as soon as you have your information, Bertholimous. There can be no other way. Murder of a dragon in Vellonia itself? I need to inform my husband of the situation. Since you’re so willing to keep them alive, you can stand watch.” The queen pushed through the group, heading for the upper levels of Vellonia. Fang flattened himself against the wall.
Three other dragons followed her out, one almost squashing Fang with a swinging tail. Fang waited until Bertholimous made himself comfortable on a dusty bench seat; these cells had obviously lain vacant for some time. Blayke’s creatura pushed through cobwebs as he made his way toward the row of cells. He found the first two stored foodstuffs, while the two opposite had closed doors.
The gap under the doors was tall enough to fit a plate underneath. Fang crawled under the first one. Sitting in the corner, barely illuminated by light filtering under the door, was a human, face resting on bent knees. Fang could barely make out the figure. The silhouette was smaller than Blayke’s would have been; that was enough to tell Fang it was a woman. He couldn’t believe this woman, or any woman, could kill a dragon. She must be a special person—or extremely lucky.
There was nothing else he could find out about her, so he moved on to the next cell. The cell seemed empty until a pair of yellow-green eyes opened to stare straight at Fang. The creature must be very large if its eyes were anything to go by. The rat turned around and scampering as fast as he could back under the door. He took a few deep breaths. He didn’t know who they were but he was sure Blayke would be very interested to hear the news. It might even take his mind off Arcon for a few minutes.
The next few hours within Vellonia were tense. Zim contemplated how much worse things could get, and it was a depressing trail of thought. Everything had been going as smoothly as could be hoped, except for the knowledge that the Gormons had begun arriving on Talia. Within the space of a few days, two of The Circle had taken gravely ill, and a third, potential and necessary member, had been imprisoned for slaying a dragon.
Zim thought about Symbothial. They had grown up together, cousins who were as brothers. Zim found it hard to control his own grief and anger at the sight of Symbothial being dragged out of the lake with Bronwyn’s sword protruding from his belly. He couldn’t fathom why she had done it. Could leaving Avruellen have had such an effect on the young girl, or had the panther poisoned her mind? He had called out to Drakon but had received no answer. Even more puzzling was figuring out what the Dragon God had to do with it all.
The dragon city would have five days of mourning in which all would be called to return and none could leave. Zim dreaded the time. He knew from past experience that with every dragon venting their sorrow, he would be drained. Watching his immediate family come to grips with the death of a young dragon whom they all loved, would be difficult. Vellonia could ill-afford to lose any of her population. A female dragon had the possibility of having a total of four children in her extended lifetime. There was celebration if she managed to produce one. Zim suspected Drakon had taken a hand increasing the population in the past two-hundred years, knowing the threat they would eventually face.
Zim’s ruminations were interrupted by a summons to Agmunsten’s room. Zimapholous arrived to see the realmist sitting up in bed, consuming chicken soup. His voice was quieter than usual, however he was finally recovering. “Agmunsten, my dear friend, glad you decided to wake up.”
“I’ve been catching up on all the sleep I’ve had to forego since this damn crusade began. How’s Arcon?”
“Not great, but he’s still alive.”
“Well that’s something. I should be up and about tomorrow morning. I’ll have to continue with him then. I’m hoping it won’t be as draining as last time. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Zim stood for a while and sized up whether or not his friend was strong enough to take some more bad news. “There’s been a … development.”
“I was wondering when you’d get to that. I’ve been hearing you dragons thunder about the city all afternoon. Are we under attack?”
“Sort of. Symbothial has been slain.” Agmunsten choked on a mouthful of soup, spluttering some back into his bowl. Zim continued without waiting for any prompt. “It appears one of the slayers is Bronwyn, Avruellen’s apprentice.”
“But why would she?” The Head Realmist drifted into his own world for a few moments. Thinking time over, he leaned down and placed his bowl on the floor. Tired legs slowly followed, and he gingerly stood. After assuring himself he was not about to fall over, he dressed.
“So much for tomorrow morning. Take me to her now. I need to find out what’s going on.” Zim did as he was asked. He knew Agmunsten needed rest, however the situation required his intervention as soon as possible, as his mother was likely to lose patience and have Bronwyn put to death whilst no one was looking. The old realmist had no choice but to take his time, a shuffle the most energetic pace he could manage.
Bertholimous stood and greeted the duo. “Has the queen sent you?”
“No Bertholimous. I thought Agmunsten should question the girl. Someone should have her side of the story.”
“I agree Zimapholous. I was afraid your mother, our beloved queen, had sent you to finish them off.” Agmunsten was not pleased at the assumption that Bronwyn’s fate was already decided.
“Let’s just see what she can tell me. Please open the door.” Bertholimous lit another lamp and handed it to the realmist. Zim waited outside whilst Agmunsten performed the interrogation; as weak as he was, he was still strong enough to defend himself against an inexperienced realmist.
Bronwyn looked up as the door opened. So this was it, they were coming to execute her. She knew she deserved it. Why had she listened to Sinjenasta? Had Drakon really ordered him to kill the dragon? Probably not, or they would not be in this much trouble.
The man they had sent looked relatively old. Bronwyn could tell he was a realmist, and he seemed familiar somehow. The short white hair and long white beard accentuated a kindly face. That’s who he was. She remembered Agmunsten from the meeting of The Circle that night, which
seemed like a lifetime ago. “I see you know who I am, child. Please tell me what happened, Bronwyn.” She couldn’t lie to this man, however she had promised her creatura she would say nothing.
“I can‘t tell you.”
“If you don’t tell me I can’t help you.”
Bronwyn’s eyes held little hope. She kept her answer as brief as she could. “It’s true, I did kill that dragon. That’s all there is to tell.”
“You know if I don’t get a satisfactory answer there’s nothing I can do to stop Queen Jazmonilly from ordering your death, and that of your accomplice.”
“I know.” Bronwyn shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. “Can I at least see Sinjenasta before we die?” Agmunsten’s frustration at her lack of openness ceased at the mention of her companion’s name.
“I’m sure we can arrange something. Well, it was nice to meet you in person, Bronwyn. We may get you out of this yet.” Agmunsten turned his back on the forlorn young woman.
“It was an honour to meet you sir. Sorry it had to be in these circumstances.” She let out a hopeless breath as the door shut behind the visitor.
Agmunsten carried his lamp into the next cell. Speaking to Bronwyn had been more enlightening than he could have hoped. What the hell was Sinjenasta doing caught up in all of this? He would get to the bottom of this if it killed him. He shone the lamp toward the huge panther lying quietly against the back wall of the small room. Agmunsten didn’t recognise the animal lying there. “Sinjenasta?”
The creature opened his eyes, blinking in unaccustomed illumination.
“Is it really you?”
Yes, Agmunsten. How’s Bronwyn?
“She’s OK, all things considered. What have you done, getting her caught up in all of this? And why is Drakon interfering?”
I can’t tell you. You’ll have to ask him yourself. Agmunsten twirled his beard between thumb and forefinger. This was interesting.
He had to find some way to talk the queen out of her vendetta. They needed Bronwyn, and Drakon obviously thought they needed Sinjenasta. His incarnation into a panther was also surprising. “You’ve left me with many questions, my friend. Be patient. I’ll sort this out as best as I can.”
Don’t put yourself out or anything.
“That’s ungrateful coming from a creature in your current position. I’m trying to be on your side, as hard as you’re making it.” The panther had the good sense to lower his eyes. “Give me some time. There are other things going on here that are jeopardising everything.”
You haven’t told her who I am, have you?
“Who, the queen? She wouldn’t recognise your name, don’t worry.”
Not her. Bronwyn.
“No. Your secret’s safe with me, for the moment. I’ll see you later.”
Agmunsten locked the door. The two dragons who waited were staring at him, willing the information to come pouring out. “I wasn’t able to get much out of them, except Bronwyn admitted to killing Symbothial.”
“Was it in self-defence? What were they doing down there?”
“Neither of them would tell me, Zim. I do know that other forces are at work here and I need time to think about it before anyone decides to start executing. If we do the wrong thing here, Drakon himself won’t be able to save us and we might as well put out the welcome mat for the Gormons tonight.” Agmunsten noticed the worry on his associates’ scaly faces. “I know it sounds like we’ve lost before we’ve barely started, but we’re not beaten yet. Despite our problems the situation is looking more promising than I could have hoped.”
“How?”
“I can’t say.”
“Getting anything out of you is always like pulling teeth. So what happens now?”
“I’d better check on Arcon. In the meantime, make sure your mother doesn’t make any rash decisions.”
Agmunsten walked with a measured pace to Arcon’s room. How much more complicated could their situation get? Avruellen would not be happy when she found out who the creature was that had taken her niece away. Drakon was her least-favourite god; this wasn’t going to increase her fondness for him. His creature had managed to get Bronwyn into a precarious situation. The queen could not be allowed to kill them. That was the one thing Agmunsten could decide on. How to stop that happening was altogether another matter.
He was not far from his fellow realmist’s room. Blayke came rushing out and almost collided with him. “Is everything alright young man?”
“It’s Arcon. I think he’s waking up.” Agmunsten increased his pace as much as he could. Finally, some good news for a change.
EPILOGUE
Klazich ruled the desolate Third Realm with unrelenting cruelty, a thing that suited the inhabitants. His lifelong ambition, as passed to him by one of his two fathers, was to take the Gormons out of this Realm. Their destination was Talia, a world that had callously shunted them out countless lifetimes ago. Many Gormons had been lost, the battle the most bitter in all their history. The pathetic dragons and their lapdogs, the humans, had handed Klazich’s people a mortifying defeat. How they had managed to do this was a puzzle to the new leader, and he didn’t intend to duplicate his forefathers’ mistakes.
Klazich was charged with the job of taking his and his brothers’ and sisters’ unrelenting cruelty to the citizens of the ill-fated world. Revenge would be so very sweet. He salivated at the thought; tasty, tasty humans. He couldn’t remember the last time he had feasted on such delicacies. His ancestors had managed to bring some humans with them when they had fled Talia, and they were housed in small cages. They weren’t prolific breeders, and as such, were a great treat, only enjoyed rarely and by few. Some always had to be left alive so more could be bred.
His hideous claws scraped the floor as he paced back and forth. The latest report from one of his high priests indicated High Priest Kerchex was continuing to wreak havoc. He was satisfactorily metamorphosing the boy’s body. He would not remain an infant for much longer. High Priest Zuk was taking a subtler, less enjoyable approach. He had possessed the mind of a young princess. By all accounts she was not as difficult to coax as one would imagine. She appeared to be partial to some of the Gormon’s depraved tendencies. A drop of putrid saliva oozed down his leathery chin.
The process was longer than he had originally planned. Klazich’s creatures were beginning to starve. No food remained within the Third Realm, and soon they would be forced to eat the remaining humans. Gormons could survive for maybe two months without food. He had thought they would all be feasting on Talia by now. Unfortunately, the corridors between Realms had been reluctant to let them pass, and many of Klazich’s Gormons had perished in the attempt, their precious bodies salvaged to feed their remaining brothers. More would be sent out when what passed for evening, in this wretched twilight place, came.
He hoped when High Priest Kerchex was fully matured he would be strong enough to manipulate the corridors. They would then rush through in their thousands and take Talia for themselves. Until then, Klazich kept watch. The humans had made many mistakes. When he reached Talia, they would pay for them. Klazich showed many rows of small, pointed teeth when he smiled, scaly cheeks rustling with the effort. He called one of his servants; a hunched, leather-skinned monstrosity skittled to his feet. “Fetch me one of the humans. Tonight I will feed as I deserve.”
A low cackle shredded itself as it passed through hundreds of teeth. Klazich delighted in hearing his own raspy voice. “Children of Talia, I’m coming. We will soon feast together. Won’t that be fun?”
The old human woman, who up until now had been kept for breeding, was dragged into his presence. Her mother had told her stories of Talia, stories that had been passed on by countless generations of humans who had suffered before them. To know this disgusting creature was going to destroy her ancestral home extinguished her own small hopes of one day returning. Tears of loss streamed down her face. At least she wouldn’t be alive to see it. Her last moments in this realm would be spent in defi
ance. She would not give the monster, looming over her, the pleasure. When Klazich commenced his meal by ripping off her arm with his razor sharp teeth, she bit her tongue, stifling the scream. In the instant before her death, she gurgled a prayer to the Gods instead, and asked that this disgusting creature choke to death on her bones.
Klazic finished his meal without choking. Kneeling on the bloody floor, he licked up the last of the captive’s red juices. He stood and burped, patting his distended belly, and made his way to his chambers. Gormons were born of a cruel and hard world where comforts meant nothing so lying on the hard stone floor was all the rest he needed.
Klazic grinned as he drifted off, imagining what it would be like to eat one or even two humans every day. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon, maybe within days, the Gormons would suffer no more; now it was Talia’s turn.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dionne Lister, that’s me. I know these things are supposed to be serious, but I prefer silly. I’m from Sydney, love animals and spend way too much time on Twitter. I’ve always wanted to be a writer and now, thanks to the Associate Degree of Creative Writing at Southern Cross University, I am living the dream (obviously). If you want to see more of my ‘stuff’ I have a website: dionnelisterwriter.wordpress.com, drop by and say hello. I’m on Twitter @DionneLister and I have a facebook page too and don’t forget, if you liked Shadows of the Realm, the sequel, A Time of Darkness is out now.
Shadows of the Realm (The Circle of Talia) Page 29