Fallen Tiers

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  Dorien slowly stood up. “The People will honor the pact that was made by the gods to partner with the dragons and keep them safe. On this, you have my word.” He moved to Alador. “When and how do you want us to support the removal of this tyrant?”

  “As quickly as the Daezun can muster forces; it should be soon before he can bring war down upon you. I am hoping for a month. Will that be enough time to muster and get the army to Silverport?”

  “It will be if we use the gift the gods gave us during the Great War. We can travel to the very gates of the city without the High Minister knowing we are there.” Dorien stated confidently. He laughed at the questioning look on Alador’s face. “You didn’t stay here long enough as an adult, brother. There were further secrets to learn than how to bed a woman properly.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Levielle fastened the last clasp of his armor with a sense of satisfaction, the worn leather strap folding into place as though it had a memory of its own. While many of his station might prefer regal, shining armor, and in fact he did have a formal set on display in his home, he vastly preferred his plate and chain. He felt that his deceptively simple day-to-day armor made him more approachable to the average soldier; although finely made, its obvious wear clearly showed that he was a commander who led from the thick of battle.

  With one final shake to settle everything, he swirled his regal blue cape about his shoulders with satisfaction; now there was one piece of ornamentation he did enjoy! Still chuckling, he stepped outside into the bright day.

  His ears were immediately assaulted by the noise of the camp and the repair work being done all over the city; between the two he could barely hear the crunch of his boots against the gravel as he strode toward the tent where his command was housed. Men saluted smartly as he moved past them, but he merely waved them down and continued on his way. Finally, making his way to the center of camp, he entered the tent.

  The table at the center was a large rectangle, built more for function than form, surrounded by a few chairs. Side tables covered in wine goblets, half eaten food, scrolls, and parchment lying about cluttered the periphery of the tent. He smiled and gave a soft sigh; it was good to be in a more simple place.

  “Good to be back,” he muttered quietly to himself.

  “Hello?” A voice called out from behind a fabric wall. A man stepped out and immediately saluted upon seeing who was in the tent. “Sir! I apologize, I was not expecting…”

  Levielle waved at the man. “Save it, corporal, I did not give notice. I have orders to give and not a lot of time to do it.” His tone was gruff; with tensions in the city rising, it would be good to get away again. He looked forward equally to not being drenched in the politics and to not waxing the behinds of those that saw themselves as the powerful.

  “Yes, sir. What orders to you have for your men?” The corporal relaxed a bit, his uniform ruffled and dirty, Levielle assumed from assisting in the relief effort of the city. While Levielle always had a great appreciation of keeping a camp, and by extension the men, groomed and well-cared for, this was anything but a normal campaign.

  Moving to the table, he unfurled a nearby large piece of parchment. The map of the island was drawn in relatively good detail. The Daezun villages and settlements dotted the center of the isle and coasts. Taking some weights and placing them on corners of the map, he looked up to the other man.

  “Get the commanders in here, we’ll need to discuss a plan of action in order to move forward with the relief effort.” Levielle remained hunched over the table, supporting himself by his outstretched arms.

  “Sir, with all due respect, the city has a relief effort underway from the Blackguard and citizens within.”

  “Yes, but the rest of the affected cities and villages will not have fared so well. Gather the commanders, son.”

  With a quick nod, the man was off. Levielle hung his head down and shook it slowly. He knew the meeting was going to be one of resistance and distress The men had just finished helping those that remained and mourning those lost. Moving them would not be the most popular task, but he knew it was not only the only way to keep Luthian from taking his head, but also about making sure the people outside the city knew that someone had their best interests at heart.

  ===***===

  A meaty fist fell upon the table as wine goblets flew aside, along with a small plate of cheese. The clatter caused some of the servants to startle; the yelling that came next had them running for cover.

  “This is nothing but a political farce, General!” the man’s voice thundered.

  Many moved back from the man in question. Levielle stood at the end of the table, his back turned away from the group sitting there as he studied a map of the coast that hung on the wall. His hands were behind his back as he turned with a sigh.

  He had expected this reaction from some of the men; none would really want to leave their families and homes when they were in need.

  “I understand, Colonel… Really I do…” Levielle spoke softly, he was not about to raise his voice to assert his position. They knew the ranking well, and he had earned his. “The High Minister sees this as a way to get the vote of confidence from the people outside the city. Anyone with his rank is not going to let a good crisis go to waste.”

  “I’m not some dog he can whip to go where he pleases! We’re just going to be helping the enemy anyway!” The shouts from the colonel were not easily masked by the tent at large. Levielle knew the men immediately outside would be discussing what they could hear through the thin tent wall, and word traveled fast in the camp.

  “We are going to help our own and just our own. Now…” Levielle took a step toward the table and leaned onto it, his arms straightened, “…keep your voice down, colonel, or you’ll be the dog I’m whipping around.” His voice was lowered and the tone let the man know he had stepped too far.

  Looking around and realizing he was the center of attention and all eyes were on him, the colonel shrank back into his seat.

  “Apologies, General.” he muttered quietly under his breath.

  Levielle finally relaxed. He knew all these men were on edge from the recent storm, as well as the relief effort that was underway in the city. They were tired and worn, but asking a bit more was not going to kill them. At least it was not war out there.

  “I want the men ready to march by the end of tomorrow. We leave at first light the following morning. We will make our way down the coastline, stopping at the few villages and trading posts along the way.” He moved back to the map, giving a small pause before pointing to the known villages. “We can hit these few before seeing how Clavenport handled the edge of the storm. Make sure your divisions bring tools and wood for repair; send some into the forest to fell trees for lumber if you have to.” He turned back to the men, none of whom looked particularly eager to take on the task. Levielle sighed. “I know this isn’t the job you all wanted to do. Frankly, I’d like to get out there and do some fighting, or anything other than being the High Minister’s latest political champion.”

  A few chuckles came out of that statement. He was turning them around a little, and while he could command them to go march off the edge of the world, a disgruntled force was the last thing he wanted.

  “Let the men know that the High Minister has promised double pay when we get back. He’s been pleased with the work the men have done to take care of the city, not to mention the extra mile being taken here to assist with the villages in need.” Levielle smiled and turned to lean on the table once again.

  The men straightened at this announcement. Double pay would go very nicely for extra goods, or extra time at the brothel for the army. Inwardly he sighed; the fact he had made that promise put Luthian in an interesting place. He had promised to pay them extra, though; Levielle was only taking liberties with how much.

  “I expect reports by mid-morning telling me how we are progressing on preparations.” Levielle took up a goblet and raised it briefly before takin
g a sip. “Dismissed.”

  ===***===

  Levielle found his way to his tent, heaving a heavy sigh before sitting down on the edge of his bed. While a nice quality, he never enjoyed the lavish accommodations that some generals enjoyed. Unbuckling his armor quickly, he draped it over the mannequin that held it. He sat back down to take off his boots, enjoying the freedom his feet felt being let loose from their leather prison.

  Flopping backward, he watched the dancing shadows cast from a nearby torch. The sound of men moving, working, singing, laughing all filled his tent as his eyes finally closed.

  Hopefully, Nakyra was safe - away from the greasy clutches of Luthian. He had planned her departure meticulously. The lexital had been rented under one of his lieutenant’s names, heading to a vacation spot they enjoyed and hoped to retire to one day. She would be comfortable reading and being in the forest until it was safe for her to join him. A smile crept over his face at the idea of retiring at such a location. His last thoughts before sleep hovered around Alador, hoping the boy played his hand well. Otherwise his retirement was going to be much more bloody than he desired.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jon looked up when he heard the soft footsteps. He had known she was coming; Nightmare bristled far before Jon could hear her. It gave him time to prepare himself for what he must do next. He would take no pleasure in it, and yet, he knew it was the only way he could accomplish his own ends.

  “I have come to check on your progress, Praetor.”

  Lady Morana’s attire was reserved. She often wore simple black robes while in the temple. Still… they hugged her figure in a way that made you very aware of her beauty.

  Jon simply nodded. “He is growing quickly and is very smart.”

  The black dragon was now the size of a full flight lexital and able to fully understand Jon, though he still took what the human said literally and asked repeatedly ‘why.’

  Nightmare puffed himself up with pride, and ruffled his wings, showing off for the High Priestess.

  Morana nodded. “How are his hunting skills coming along?” She moved to Nightmare and held out her hand. The dragon slowly lowered his head until the top of his muzzle was against it.

  Jon frowned when she touched Nightmare. The dragon was too young to understand the woman’s motives, but he had to allow this light bonding between them or risk losing his position. He moved to stand next to the High Priestess. “I no longer have to feed him. He gets only treats for training.” The young dragon had been feeding himself for some time now, and seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds because of it.

  “He is truly beautiful,” she murmured as she ran her hand up between the dragon’s eyes, bringing a rumble from the black’s chest.

  “You are well matched.” It was all Jon could do to keep the contempt out of his voice.

  It was not a lie, unfortunately. The High Priestess’s raven-black hair shone every bit as much as Nightmare’s polished scales. Her lined eyes seemed large like the dragon’s, as well.

  Morana smiled and looked over at Jon. “I have to wonder if your admiration is more for the dragon than the woman.”

  Jon allowed a slight smile to curve his lips. “Cannot a man admire both?” He reached up and stroked Nightmare’s neck. His touch generated a deeper rumbling response from the young dragon and put him very close to the priestess. “May I be frank, Lady Morana?”

  “You may.” She turned slightly to face him.

  Jon took a breath to prepare himself. “You are not admired as much as you could and should be. Why do you dance on the strings of the leaders of the Great Isle when you could lead it all? You are smart, beautiful, and so talented in magic.” Jon dropped his hand from the dragon and dared to take the priestess’ hand in his own. “You are the chosen of our Goddess. You should be revered and loved.” He watched her eyes closely, seeing the pupils dilate as he hoped.

  Morana did not pull her hand away as she looked up at the slightly taller mage. “What would you do differently, Praetor?”

  Jon felt no threat here, and his dragon remained calm between them. He boldly pushed some hair back from her eyes. When she did not admonish him, he leaned forward and kissed her with all the tenderness he could muster. When she returned the kiss, he smiled within; some people were so predictable.

  He pulled away with a soft smile on his face, mostly because it had not been as revolting as he thought it might be. He had never lain with a woman, finding their games unappealing, but now he needed to play his hand. He was not just seeking to help Alador protect all the dragons, he also coveted the High Priestess’ position.

  Her eyes remained closed for a moment. “I see.” She opened them and surveyed him and the dragon. “Perhaps you should have dinner with me tonight. We can discuss matters of the temple, and then you can show me how much reverence you really have.”

  “I would be delighted.” He released her hand to stroke Nightmare’s head. “I am sure the dragon can find other amusements for the evening.”

  “No,” she said as she reached up to pet the dragon again, her fingers gently brushing past Jon’s. “Bring Nightmare. I have prepared a treat for him; it is time he was introduced to the taste of mortal flesh. You will meet me in the prayer circle in half an hourglass.” She looked at the dragon. “Does he not speak?”

  “I believe he is overcome by your presence.” Jon said stalling for time to think.

  Morana reached up and stroked the dragon again.

  Jon was not ready for this… Nightmare was not ready for this… And, he knew this was more than a treat for the dragon, this was a test.

  “Are you sure he is not too young?” he asked hoping for a reprieve.

  “He is of the size all others have been prior to tasting the sweetness of mortal flesh.” She eyed him. “Is there some reason you want to avoid this, Praetor? The suggestion that the Black flight feast on the dead was yours. Do you not remember?”

  She seemed almost to taunt him. Her voice held an edge that Jon knew well. He dared not refuse her.

  “No, I just don’t want him to like it and eat me. He is still young and might not discern the difference between living and dead.” Jon looked at Nightmare. The dragon was unusually silent. He softened his voice at the end with affection. It was the last emotion he felt like displaying. “We will be there, my lady.”

  Morana nodded and turned, her robes sweeping the area clean as they spun about her. The two, dragon and man, watched until she was out of sight, neither speaking. When she turned the corner below them, Nightmare swung his wedged head so one bright eye could gaze into Jon’s.

  “What is a mortal?

  “I am a mortal. She means people, like me.” Jon was tense. He had never wanted to have this conversation with the youngling. He had purposely kept the dragon away from the others while they fed on the pieces of the dead from the storm.

  “I thought you said dragons are supposed to protect the ones like you.” Nightmare’s confusion was visible, his individual scales were more prominent, unlike his former slick appearance of contentment under Lady Morana and Jon’s attention.

  “I did.” Jon took a deep breath and hoped that Nightmare was old enough to understand this. “Sometimes… sometimes you must do something wrong for the greater good. I have not yet earned a position that would entitle me to the mantle of High Priest. We are going to have to do this. You are going to have to eat mortal flesh.”

  “Why?” The dragon’s favorite question lay between them.

  “She will kill us both if you do not,” Jon explained.

  “So, our lives are more important than this mortal?” Nightmare twisted his head upside down to look Jon over.

  “You won’t be killing anyone. You will be eating those killed by the storm.”

  The young dragon’s long neck arched back and his lip curled up in disgust. “Like those dropped in the courtyard?”

  “Exactly,” Jon confirmed.

  The dragon began to sway his massive hea
d back and forth. “Nope… No… They smell revolting.”

  “If you don’t, she will kill us. We must think of our preservation first. We cannot protect if we are dead.” Jon laid a hand beneath the dragon’s jaw, pulling his head down. “I need you to do this.”

  “What if they taste as bad as they smell?” The dragon grimaced, making him more terrifying to look at.

  “Try not to chew much and just choke it down.” Jon hoped they tasted bad to Nightmare. He would be less likely to look for more.

  “I will do this for you.” The dragon conceded. “It is not pleasing.”

  “No,” Jon admitted. “It is not pleasing to me either. I will meet you at the path below.”

  He patted Nightmare on the shoulder as the dragon passed him to leap from the cave opening. His wings sprung apart a little late making it more of a fall to flight then a lift.

  Jon strode into the clearing, his robes as black as the dragons mingling and growling about them. His stride was confident. He took note of the circle of dragons before he approached Morana.

  “Where is Nightmare, Jon?” Morana demanded.

  “I sent him flying before I came down from the caves. I am sure he just got distracted. He is very young after all.” The priest put his hands behind him. He appeared far more relaxed than he was on the inside. He was not sure that the violation of what he had been teaching the young dragon would not override their last conversation.

  “If he does not answer my call, his loyalty is in question.” Morana nuzzled another young dragon beside her and turned to look at the priest.

  Jon just shrugged as if unconcerned. The priestess slowly turned, calling a strange word. The dragons made a circle around the two of them. Nightmare glided in, followed closely by a very young dragon, not even fully winged. Jon’s dragon landed, but the young one bumbled in out of the air and collapsed unceremoniously on the ground not far from the group. Nightmare nuzzled the fledgling affectionately and they both lumbered over to the priestess.