Fallen Tiers

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  “So, she is large due to magic?” Nightmare pressed, trying his best to understand Jon’s reluctance.

  “Yes.” The mage was still trying to process the onslaught of information. Morana only had the dragons’ loyalty because it suited them. He made note to be prepared for the day it did not suit them. He had truly thought she had ‘control’ of the Black Flight.

  Then there was the dragonsworn… Had Alador earned that title among the flights when he released the bloodmine dragons?

  “You won’t tell Morana will you?” The dragon asked abruptly, a look of concern creasing its brow all the way down into its muzzle ridges.

  Nightmare’s sudden question jolted Jon from his musings. “I will not tell Morana,” he promised.

  “Oh good… I don’t want to get in trouble with Blacksaber for sharing dragon secrets.”

  “I will never break your confidences, Nightmare, as long as you tell me that the information is a secret,” Jon sincerely promised.

  “It is a secret,” Nightmare whispered even though their conversation thus far had been at a normal volume.

  Jon laughed. “I had already gathered that.”

  If Alador was making his move, he was not about to tell Morana. He did not want the same division of loyalty that the Black Flight now faced. No… silence was beneficial, as well as an honoring of his bond with Nightmare.

  Nightmare shifted and laid his forehead against Jon’s. The young dragon rumbled contentedly – the vibration was soothing against Jon’s brow. It was something the dragon often did when seeking affection.

  They sat that way for some time, love emanating from the dragon. It was a palpable sensation when the dragon touched him this way and Jon never wanted to interrupt it. It was the only time in his life that he felt absolute acceptance.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Alador felt a sudden pull on his very soul. He moved to the balcony overlooking the city and saw a dragon winging away in the distance. It had been either Amaum or Pruatra, which meant…the egg! It must be the egg.

  He turned to where Luthian was working on the damage reports from around the city; Alador’s task had been writing letters of response, detailing the aid that would be given. Sordith’s report in particular had not been good. Some of the air vents on the plains had been filled with water, flooding the deeper mines.

  “My Lord, I need to see to a matter of personal concern. May I depart the rest of the afternoon?” His words were respectful and held none of the animosity that he was feeling.

  Luthian looked over, eyebrow raising. “You know I prefer to have you nearby.”

  “I understand, and I understand the reasons why. A dear friend of mine is ill, however, and I wish to look into her care and health.” Alador turned to face his uncle, his hands grasped before him to stop them from shaking.

  “I see.” Luthian thought for a moment and then looked over to where he had set Mesiande with a book. “I will allow this. I will see you in the morning.”

  Alador inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. “First thing, High Minister,” he promised.

  He took his leave, only giving a side long look at Mesiande. Luthian had been treating her as a great doll. If she recalled any of this, he was certain she would not wish to remain as his queen. Though he still had great love for Mesiande, he had decided that it would be best for everyone if Nemara were queen, and mother of Latiera. Well, if Latiera had survived her own creation.

  Thinking of the future put a little more bounce in his step. He noted on his way home that he was being followed by one of Luthian’s hounds. He grinned, slowing to conjure a horizontal wall of water; then, before the man had a chance to look up, it cascaded down, knocking the spy off his feet.

  Alador took the hysterics of those splashed and the confusion of the man on the ground as a chance to slip his spy. He ducked into a small recess in a servant access and activated the traveling stone, envisioning the underwater entrance to Pruatra’s cave. This seemed like the safest choice, as he figured she would be somewhere within tending to the hatchling.

  The materialization into water was shocking, much like diving into a deep cold pool on a hot summer day. He quickly moved up to the edge, pushing his hair back from his eyes, and pulled himself up.

  Pruatra looked over at him. “Took you long enough.” She sniffed at something in her talons, then looked back to him.

  “I came as quickly as I could disentangle myself from the High Minister’s web.” He cast a drying spell so his robes were not weighing him down. “Is she here?”

  Pruatra’s expression softened, and she held out a small blue hatchling. Its scales were a light blue on the edges, and grew darker as they neared the body. The small fins at her face were almost laughable, more like butterfly wings, but they framed the deep sapphire eyes beautifully.

  “May I hold her?” he asked, his reverence for the beautiful creature in his eyes and tone.

  “Of course, she is partially yours.” Pruatra carefully held out a talon.

  He lifted the little dragon up and she opened her eyes. She turned her head to stare at him. “Hello Latiera, welcome to the world.”

  “Latiera? Why this name? I have never heard it.” Pruatra eyed the man with curiosity.

  “She told me.” Alador simply said.

  “She told you? How did this occur?”

  “I was taking a bath next to her and I fell asleep. She came to me in a dream.” Alador smiled and rubbed the top of the hatchling’s head.

  All of the sudden, Latiera began contorting about in his arms. Her body began to change and it was all he could do to hang on to her.

  “Pruatra, what is happening? Is she dying?” Alador gasped out, his alarm palpable as he struggled to keep hands on the changing shape.

  “I don’t know. I have never seen a hatchling do that. Soothe her as best you can.” Pruatra encouraged. Alador looked up at her and saw the fear in her eyes as well.

  They both stared at the thrashing, swelling dragon in confusion. Pruatra realized what was happening first. “She is changing shapes.”

  “Are hatchlings supposed to do that?” Alador looked more closely. Pruatra was right.

  “No. But then she is not wholly a dragon, so I do not know what such a mixture on the wings of power might bring.” The dragon nuzzled the shifting infant in Alador’s hands.

  They both stared until the process was done. When at last she stopped whimpering and moving, a small naked baby with a clear Lerdenian look lay in his arms.

  “Well, that explains that, I guess.” Alador tried to let out the stress that had built up within him to see his child flailing in such a manner.

  “I fail to see what it explains.” Pruatra was staring at the child as if it had grown a second head.

  “She wasn’t a dragon in my dream,” he elaborated.

  “Yes, well she can’t stay here like that. The chances of her becoming chilled or falling into the water are too great.” Pruatra drew her head up imperiously.

  “I agree. Nemara will be excited to see her. Any chance of stopping her changing like that without harming her?”

  Pruatra sniffed the baby who reached up to touch the dragon’s muzzle. “Your guess is as good as mine, Alador. We both are dealing with a creature that I have no memory of ever having existed.”

  Alador pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around the baby to keep her warm. “I see. Well here I go again, onto paths heretofore unknown. I will be comfortable when the day becomes routine.”

  Pruatra laughed, bringing a scowl to Latiera’s small face. “You would die of boredom,” she predicted.

  “It would be nice…for awhile.” He paused. “Will you be at the attack?”

  “I will be, as will Amaum.’

  “Is he still angry?” Alador wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to have an angry dragon on his back.

  Pruatra sighed, more of a deep rumble to the mage. “He nurtures anger like Keensight once did.’

  “I am so sorry Pruatra
. We all lost that day.” Alador laid a hand on her muzzle. “I will ensure that Rena is never forgotten.”

  Pruatra nuzzled the bundle in his arms. “She will ensure that Rena is never forgotten - as long as you can help her reach adulthood.”

  There was a long silence. “I will take her home to Nemara now. Do you think it is safe to travel with magic?”

  The blue dragon sniffed Latiera again. “I cannot say for certain; there are definite elements I cannot sense in her.

  “Then let’s hope I don’t kill her. I have no other way to take her back.” He should have thought of that. “Thank you for all you have done, Pruatra.” The dragon nodded.

  He pulled out the amulet and envisioned his bedroom. Ever since he told her of his dream, Nemara had been nesting; there was already clothing for a baby and blankets galore. He appeared and immediately checked the baby, heaving a sigh of relief when she giggled as he unwrapped her. He moved to the bell pull after flipping the cloak back over the small infant.

  Radney did not take long to appear. “It is difficult, Lord Alador, to know where you are in this house. How may I serve?”

  “Fetch Lady Nemara, even if you have to send a runner looking for her. It is urgent.” Alador stated.

  “She is in the library. Should I escort her?” Radney raised a brow, trying to discern what could be urgent, but then his face melted into a roguish grin. “Or not?”

  Alador chuckled at his manservant’s assumptions. “She is in no need of escort.”

  They both grinned at one another as Radney left. He took the baby up once more, this time without the cloak. He looked at his favorite cloak and realized that it would need washing.

  Grimacing at the mess, he took her into the bath and pulled out a pail of water. He had just finished cleaning her up the only way he knew how, dipping her in and out of the pail, and was wrapping a blanket around Latiera when Nemara rushed in. She saw the blanket and her face lit with excitement. “She is here? Let me have her! You’re doing that wrong.” She gently took the baby out of his hands. “Did you name her?” She flipped back the cover that hid the child’s face. “Oooh Alador, she is beautiful.” The infant looked up at Nemara with those great big eyes.

  “Yes, her name is Latiera, and she is beautiful, but there is a problem.” Alador put a hand on Nemara’s arm. “We have to keep her covered when out of this room. It seems she can shift shapes to a hatchling dragon.”

  Nemara stared down at the baby in amazement. “I have never heard of an infant having that much magic?”

  “Neither had Pruatra. It will take some time to ensure it doesn’t happen randomly.” Alador admitted. “How do we feed her?”

  “I will hire a wet nurse. Until then, a cloth soaked in teben milk will have to do.” Her authority on the matter was clear.

  “How do you know this stuff?”

  Nemara smiled. “I, unlike you, paid attention while I lived with the Daezun.”

  Alador took her hand. “This means you won’t be fighting.” He cleared his throat. “When this is over, will you be my bondmate and my Queen?”

  Nemara stood rigid, the differing emotions showed on her face. “What of Mesiande?”

  “She would never be happy here, Nemara.” Alador’s sadness was evident. “Especially if she remembers being in Luthian’s care.”

  “Then yes, I will be your Queen.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The army of hundreds of Daezun had convened at the cave entrance in the mountains above Dorien’s home. Dorien and the elders of each village had made their way to the front of the well-provisioned assemblage. They estimated the journey might take over a week, and they had to be on time.

  The blacksmith was not the most senior in the gathering of leaders. However, because he had called them all to arms with the help of the red dragon, and because he did possess the physique of a bull, each of the other elders bowed to him.

  “Shall we proceed?” Dorien waved a hand toward the cave.

  This had once been a dragon cave, eons ago. It was deserted now, but lent itself well to the starting point for the army’s journey to Silverport, and their battle to support the dragonsworn.

  With torches in hand, they led their men and women into the massive cave. The floor had been rubbed smooth as glass from the many years a dragon family lived here. The main cave had many smaller tunnels, which curled off into darkness and no doubt led to other sub-caves.

  Dorien moved slowly toward the back wall, scaling a large earthen mound well over twice his height. He wondered if this had been the place the nest rested, or if it had been where the hoard of the resident dragon was once piled and on display. In any case, he made it to the top, closely followed by the handful of village elders leading the Daezun complement.

  The young man reached for the huge dragon horn slung across his back. It came easily out of its sheath, its ivory glistening in the torch light, its carved runes worn by age. The elders during the Great War were told by the golden dragon who gave it to them that it was one of the horns of the original golden dragons. The dragon leader instilled in it magic the Daezun would not normally be able to access. Everyone in the forefront of this gathering had heard the tale, but none had ever heard the horn or seen its magic called upon.

  It was so heavy Dorien had to hold it with both hands. He hesitated. The oldest elder of all the villages came to his side and laid a hand on his arm.

  “It is time, Dorien. Let us rout these elitist mages once and for all. Let us be the ones who help bring the balance of magic between dragon and mortal back to the land.”

  Dorien took in a deep breath and raised the horn to his mouth, blowing as hard as he could. The horn did not produce the sound of any instrument anyone had ever heard. Instead, it emitted the mighty roar of a dragon.

  Everywhere the sound hit… everywhere it bounced and ricocheted off the rock… the rock vanished. The cavern grew larger and by the third blowing of the dragon horn, the back wall of the cave was developing into a massive tunnel. A tunnel that would take them across the island and up under the plains outside of Silverport.

  ===***===

  Sordith stood on the plain. It was fast approaching daybreak, and if Dorien did not arrive soon the assault on Silverport would take place without the help of the Daezun.

  The Trench Lord paced and cursed quietly below his breath. “LATE! Damn it! I swear I’ll never…”

  His whispered words caught in his throat when he felt a trembling below his feet. Panic overtook him as he turned to check on the harbor. Was it another wave coming to destroy all he and his people had managed to salvage from the last one?

  The sea was calm, but the tremor below his feet increased. An earthquake then! He ran back toward the city and the stone of the ramp to the first-tier in order to gain a firmer footing. Once on the ramp, he turned back toward the plain. He was amazed at what he saw.

  A huge portion of the plain had disappeared and left a mighty sinkhole. Sordith had just enough time to think that it might be residual damage for the storm. Would it expose the caves he and Keelee came back to the city through?

  Before his mind could question any further, the Daezun army started to bubble up out of the hole like water from a mountain spring.

  Dorien had arrived.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Milord, Severent is here and is requesting an audience. He says it is urgent.” Luthian’s servant stood in front of the High Minister’s desk awaiting instructions.

  “Send him in,” Luthian granted with a wave of his hand. He shuffled the papers on his desk into a pile as he waited for his head henchman to appear.

  Severent stomped into the room with a burst of energy, but he held his tongue until the servant retreated and closed the door behind him.

  “We have a problem,” Severent blurted out as soon as he heard the latch click into place.

  Luthian had rarely seen his trusted assassin so shaken. He rose from his desk, as he demanded, “Speak up man… Wha
t is it?”

  “I believe the Daezun are on their way to attack the city,” he replied, as his hand flexed involuntarily on the hilt of his sword.

  Luthian went to the sideboard where he poured himself and Severent a drink. He needed time to consider this outburst. “What brings you to this conclusion?” he asked as he turned back and handed Severent a glass.

  He usually did not offer the man a drink. After all, he was a servant, if a servant of a higher grade then the house staff. However, he wanted all the information Severent possessed, and in a manner where he could sift through it and plan properly. This just might be another way to deal with the Daezun, which he could use rather than starving them out. A show of superiority was always a wise tactical move and might prove a much faster solution to the problem. Luthian prided himself on being flexible with his planning.

  Severent accepted the glass and followed Luthian to the two chairs by the fire. When the High Minister took a seat, the assassin had the sense not to sit without being invited. He positioned himself in front of his employer at the mantle.

  “The first I got wind of something developing was from my ‘eyes’ in Lady Aldemar’s makeshift healer’s clinic.”

  Luthian had tasked Severent to place spies in key locations. He told the man he needed eyes everywhere. Since then Severent had called his circle of assassins and minor henchmen his ‘eyes.’ Luthian had not trusted Lady Aldemar for years, and he’d made a point of being sure Severent kept an ‘eye’ on her.

  “Even though the injured from the storm have all been gathered and attended to,” Severent went on, “the Lady still requested the production of spools of bandages and compresses. When my ‘eye’ asked for the reason, since many were being sent home from the clinic, she was told by one of the other girls that Lady Aldemar said there might be further need in the future. I think she is in league with the Daezun and preparing to assist with the wounded in the coming attack.”