Lord Of Dragons (Book 2)

by John Forrester

  "Was Lord Oberon always the ruler of this city?" Tael whispered to the Captain.

  The old sailor shook his head and winced as several guards started marching towards them. So this Oberon had only recently declared himself lord of the city and probably killed all his competitors with the help of the witch. If the Captain was afraid of Lord Oberon when he was only Master Oberon, Tael imagined the man was far more dangerous. Especially now that he ruled Glar Bay with absolute power.

  "State your business with Lord Oberon." A giant of a guard wielding a steel two-handed great sword aimed the tip at Captain Greivish's throat.

  "I'm Captain—"

  "I know who you are." The guard huffed and glanced distractedly at a group of guards carrying sacks outside. The mass of whispering people began shambling towards the guards in a frenzied pace, their mouths frothing as their whispers turned into moans and yelps and pleas. "Hurry up and get inside. We can talk after feeding time."

  The Captain charged ahead and Tael helped shelter Sebine from the rush of bodies surging around them. Blabbering, begging addicts raced towards the guards and shoved aside slower, weaker members of the crowd, many of whom were trampled underfoot by the crowd. It was sheer madness. Fights ensued as the men jockeyed for a better position closer to the guards, who swung around heavy arms and tossed a shower of white dots at the mob.

  Screams and shrieks of desperation were heard as the addicts clambered and clawed their way closer to where the white dots had landed. Tael cringed as a several of the pills landed near his feet and he veered around and guided Sebine away from the ravenous eyes of the Whispering Ones as they scooped up the drugs and popped them into their mouths. Fists slammed into faces as furious-eyed addicts punched and bit and wrenched open mouths of weaker ones, digging around in their mouths to steal the pills.

  Tael gripped Balensaar even tighter and had to fight to keep himself from unleashing the sword and severing heads and spraying blood over the mad throng. Once the guards had finished tossing all the pills into the crowd they unsheathed their short swords and filtered through the people, shoving and kicking aside addicts begging for drugs. They seemed to be searching for the weak, and once found, they seized hair and yanked their victims up. The resisting men and women flailed their arms and legs and pleaded for their lives, but it was of no use. The guards raised strong arms high and brought down swords against necks and hacked off heads until the headless bodies thudded to the ground.

  Each guard carried a thick sack slung over their back, and they tossed the bloody heads inside and went to collect more until the guards' sacks were full and stained with dripping blood. At a shout from the Captain, Tael realized he had stopped and gaped in horror at the gruesome scene, watching as the guards selected and slew countless addicts in a cruel collection of heads. Was it all for the witch? What would she want with heads?

  He turned away and realized that Sebine was shivering and gasping in terror. Her eyes were covered but she heard every grisly sound: the swords striking flesh and bone, the screams and moans and pleas, the guard's cruel taunts and jests as they harvested the weak and the doomed. And the worst part was the stink of copper and urine from the bleeding bodies.

  "Get me out of here, please Tael, please get me out of here!" Sebine's voice was shrill and desperate and he forced his legs to move and they stumbled ahead and avoided the bodies being mutilated and devoured by crazed men and women feeding on the slain in a frenzied bloodlust of ravenous hunger. The scene was so unreal that Tael found himself dizzy and lost in an otherworldly nightmare and knew that if he didn't reach the entry into the building soon he would pass out and join the foreverness of this middling ground between the lowest level of hell and utter annihilation.

  He passed through the gates and his arms were seized by the Captain and his men as he found himself falling and the world going black.

  Chapter Four

  SEBINE FORCED HERSELF to breath. Deep, steady inhalations and exhalations to purge the stench of death from her nostrils. She rummaged around in her pack and found a small vial of lavender perfume. Despite her trembling hands, she managed to open it and inhale the sweet scent that lifted her mind away from what she had just experienced. If only she could forget what she heard and smelled, the terror and agony of the slaughter. And it was a slaughter, as her eyes confirmed by gaping at the heavy, bleeding sacks of round— She gasped and covered her mouth to fight down the bile rising up her throat. Were they carrying heads? Was that the ingredients for the witch that the Captain had mentioned?

  Please, gods, let it not be so, Sebine thought, and clasped her hands in prayer. She closed her eyes and begged for the eyes of the gods to roam here in this tainted part of the world and cleanse the filth from the land. What strange hand of fate had brought them here? They were supposed to go to the beautiful city of Shaar'el and forge an alliance with the Malathians, not find herself stuck in the bowels of hell.

  "He'll be all right," Captain Greivish said, and helped rouse Tael back to consciousness. "Just consider him lucky that he didn't pass out back there in that mess. Would've been the last time you saw your friend alive, I imagine."

  "I wouldn't have allowed that to happen." Sebine's voice was cold and strong and caused the Captain to clamp his mouth shut. "Now where are we going?"

  The old sailor pointed at a heavily guarded door that led into the main building. But the guard that had led them through the gates blocked their path.

  "You'll need to petition in order to see Lord Oberon. Rules have changed from the last time you've visited, Captain Greivish. Make sure you have your bribes ready if you intend to preserve your ability to trade with Glar Bay."

  The guard displayed a greedy smile and the Captain placed a few gold coins in his meaty palm. They followed the man up to the entrance, and the guards parted at a wave of the hand from the huge guard. "You'll need to speak with the clerk and petition him for access to Lord Oberon. The clerk handles all scheduling of visitations, so you'll need to convince him of your reasons you need to speak with the Lord."

  Sebine could only imagine the cost of convincing the clerk, and once they arrived in Lord Oberon's chamber, they most certainly would face a set of steeper bribes to gain ship's passage to a Malathian port. Let it be Erelim, Sebine hoped, for she had heard strange stories of the fanatical cultists of Rez'el and of the difficulties of traveling overland to Shaar'el. The question was, could they even survive Glar Bay?

  "Are you feeling better?" she asked Tael, and stroked his back as he bobbed his head with an unconvincing expression on his face.

  "I still can't believe what I saw." He inhaled a huge gulp of air and his eyes widened as if trying to purge the memory from his mind. He glanced at a few guards marching by and lowered his voice a whisper. "No one deserves that kind of a death, especially not the insane and the addicted. They deserve kindness and help, not brutality. What should we do, Sebine?"

  She lowered her voice to match his. "We do what we came here to do...and we don't allow ourselves to get distracted. Making a deal with the devil doesn't require us to purge the depths of hell." She fixed her eyes on his and gazed at him until he shifted away in surprise at the intensity of her stare. "Don't forget Tael, we swore a blood oath... The only thing that matters now is for us to board a ship and sail west. Believe in your heart that all you see around you is ephemeral, and that one day it will be washed clean. But not now."

  There was the faintest flicker of fear in his eyes as he glanced back and nodded his head in agreement. But it was enough, and as she followed the Captain up to the clerk's office, she held Tael's hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

  "We're here to see the clerk regarding a visit with Lord Oberon." The Captain spoke in clipped, official tones as he addressed a youthful man in black robes sitting at a desk.

  The man possessed the reddest hair Sebine had ever seen, and narrowing his eyes, he frowned at the Captain in a significant look of mistrust. "I am the clerk, and if you had any business wi
th Lord Oberon you most certainly would have known that. Who are you and why did the guards allow you entry?"

  "My name is Captain Greivish and I command the Fair Winds. We just arrived—"

  "Yes, yes, of course..." The clerk studied the open journal at his desk and placed a long finger over a line of text marking a recent entry. "I see you delivered your goods a day ahead of schedule. Strange, from what I've studied of your records, Captain Greivish, I've found that you usually are at least two days late in your shipments. What changed?"

  The Captain cleared his throat and cast a look at Sebine. "We had extra motivation to bring our passengers to Glar Bay as soon as possible."

  "Interesting..." The clerk's eyes drifted over to Sebine and Tael and inspected them slowly until he nodded in satisfaction. "Tell me, Captain, why is a smuggler transporting a member of the royal family of Valance to Glar Bay? And pardon my lack of manners, Princess Sebine, but I failed to originally recognize you in that disguise of yours. Not much normally escapes my attention."

  Sebine felt the need to be cautious with this one. He was far too sharp for his own good. "I can see how astute you are... And what is your name?"

  "Clerk Keysher, but my name is of no significance to you, other than the fact that I alone can grant you entry to see Lord Oberon. But I have no doubt that my employer will be more than pleased to talk with you." The young man swiveled his head to the Captain and gave him a dismissive sweep of his hand. "You may leave now."

  "How did you know who I am?" Sebine said, and sat at the chair in front of the desk.

  "I've seen you at feast days in Trikar, and once at a royal visit to Cranth. My family hails originally from the capitol, but we moved to Cranth about a year ago to seek better opportunities for my education."

  As she studied the young man she realized he was likely only a year her senior, and his face contained the pallor that is found in those that spend too many hours indoors reading books. Similar to Emitt Waylor, she realized. But not a scholar, no, Clerk Keysher possessed the shrewd manner of a businessman.

  "You've done quite well here in your position of clerk to Lord Oberon." She remembered the lesson that Master Vhelan had given her on how to manipulate the mind of fish, and thought she'd try an experiment on the clerk. Would he chase after the bait?

  Keysher snorted and gave her a look of amused mockery. "Really?" He was about to say more, but he cut himself short, and from his expression Sebine could tell that he was less than pleased to be in Glar Bay. His mouth formed a wary, examining look as he gazed at her, as if uncertain of how to proceed. "I think it is best if you talked to Lord Oberon now. But first, tell me this, have you ever studied at the Arcanum?"

  "The Arcanum?" Sebine gave out a pretty scoff like the girls do at parties. "Heavens no, King Braxion would be furious. He's not fond of the Arcanum and had forbidden me from going there." She'd spoken truthfully and it seemed to pass whatever truth-test the clerk had set for her. What game was he playing?

  "This is well known fact. However, it is has recently come to my attention that Captain Greivish interacted with a wizard of the Arcanum at Karth, Master Greyth Shalinor, an outlaw and enemy of King Braxion. If you were me, wouldn't you think it odd that the King's daughter is associated with an enemy of the King? Personally, I find it fascinating... And mind you, Lord Oberon is not a friend to your father, so I believe he will likewise find the news interesting."

  Sebine shifted in her chair and noticed something on the desk: a letter written in a familiar, flowery style as the one Tael had received in Karth. Could it be from Master Shalinor? The clerk caught where her eyes had traveled and he covered the letter with his journal.

  "Won't you both come with me?" The clerk glanced at the ornate, brass clock on the desk and stood. "Lord Oberon has a moment available to speak with you."

  As she was about to follow the man, she felt Tael's hands on her wrist. His worried eyes held her in place. He whispered in her ear. "We need to be careful in there, I suddenly had a horrible feeling that our lives are in danger."

  Keysher glanced back at them and frowned in suspicion. "Are you coming? Lord Oberon doesn't have much time to spare." He strode down a long hallway lined with framed charcoal sketches of nude figures in various poses of torture. Sebine winced and remembered Tael's words and wished they were riding their dragons to Shaar'el instead of begging for a ship's passage. Damn him, damn Master Vhelan for abandoning her. Couldn't he have left them at least one dragon?

  At the end of the hallway, Sebine shifted next to Tael as the clerk knocked on the door and entered, forcing them to wait in the hallway. She used the time to think about the best way to deal with Lord Oberon. This all depended on whether or not he was alone...

  "Time to visit Lord Oberon," the clerk said, and gestured towards the slightly open door.

  Sebine felt her heart speed up and hammer in her chest as she went to enter the room. Inside, she found an old man with shock white hair and devious eyes sitting at a brass and leather desk. In the corner, almost blending in perfectly with the shadows, stood the silhouette of a beautiful woman with long, silky-black hair and almond-shaped eyes. Her gaze probed deep into Sebine's mind.

  Chapter Five

  MASTER VHELAN RARELY enjoyed flying for any length of time, especially considering how old his tired back felt, and he particularly despised flying through wind and snow in the cold northlands. Was all the suffering and strife against the Princes of Naverstrom really worth the effort? Especially since in all likelihood the Hakkadians living in the north had all turned their eyes away from the truth of their ancient gods. The effects of two hundred years of corruption by the taint of Naverstrom. And he was only one of a handful of souls who remembered life before the Hakkadians had made the horrific mistake of adventuring deep inside those caves...

  If only they had listened to me, and listened to our seers. He remembered the words of warning given by the women of the soothsayer clan, an ancient line now erased for well over a hundred years. After they communicated one too many prophecies of doom for our people. Their lives were so easily obliterated from the world, like a wet finger snuffing out a candle. Would there still remain a Hakkadian people in another hundred years? Or would they vanish in the fabric of time, like the soothsayer clan?

  In a way they had foretold all this to happen. The corruption and ruin of the human kings. The rise of the dark elves and their treachery against the high elves. The diaspora of the dwarves throughout the northern reaches, and the fractured line of dwarven kings. But what he had failed to tell Master Greyth Shalinor was that the ancient kingdom in the steppes north of Shaar'el was in truth the Hakkadian Kingdom of ten thousand years ago. He had discovered this in his visions as had the seers of the soothsayer clan. But only the seers had seen that their Kingdom would be rebuilt and rise again in its power. A vision Master Vhelan doubted would ever come true.

  Mistress Lassendre pointed at a flash of light coming from the side of the snow-capped mountain of Karkellian. The signal they had been waiting to discover: an ambassador within the dwarven ranks would finally listen to them. In the two meetings they had had with the dwarves they were greeted with suspicion and mockery, as if their story of an approaching army of half-elf, half-dragons were simply too ridiculous to believe. Vhelan didn't blame them...

  His dragon dove through the flittering snow towards the flashing light and soon they approached the mouth of a massive cave set into the mountain. A dwarf stood out in the snow studying their arrival with critical eyes. Their dragons landed and snorted smoke in suspicion of the dwarf, and Master Vhelan floated off his mount and landed on the ice-covered snow. He studied the young dwarf who sported a still short beard, and upon receiving a grunt of acknowledgement, followed the lad into the cave.

  The dragons trotted along after them into the massive cave, but after sniffing the stink of dwarves they belched out fire and resisted going in past the first cavern. Ignoring the stubborn dragons, the dwarf continued to waddle his way
down another shaft. Vhelan told the dragons to go hunting for mountain sheep in the valley down below, but commanded them to return and rest before nightfall. He couldn't risk having the dragons being intercepted by enemy Hakkadian sorcerers.

  Twisting tunnels led them deeper and deeper down into the heart of the mountain. Master Vhelan shed his furs as the caverns they passed were often filled with lava and the temperature rose the deeper they descended into the mountain. After hours of tiresome trekking through the caves, they reached a massive iron gate guarded with hundreds of suspicious-eyed dwarves wielding steel hammers and cloaked in shiny ringmail armor. They had reached the underground city of the dwarves.

  An old dwarf with a long, grey beard that was forked in two spat at their approach. "Who decided to invite Hakkadian scum into Magrad? We've no used for your foul magic here... Go on back to your polluted mountain where you belong, and leave us to our peace."

  "Peace?" Master Vhelan sniffed. "It seems the air around Magrad is tainted with seer's vapors. For you seemed affected by hallucinations, dwarf. There is no peace anymore, war has come to the Dwarven Kingdom!"

  Instead of anger, the squad of dwarven soldiers laughed and slapped their bellies, eying Master Vhelan as if he were mad.

  "Oh, we'd love a good war, we would. We're tired of bashing human skulls in our little border skirmishes. And the elves don't even take our taunts seriously." The old dwarf studied his fellow soldier with a questioning look. "Am I missing any enemies, Turgun?"

  Turgun shook his head and tried to stop himself from laughing. "Maybe the snow and the cold are at war with us, and the dangerous wind outside?" This earned him a few chuckles. "Or maybe your noxious farts, Thran? Now that's a serious enemy to contend with..." The soldiers nodded their heads in mock seriousness.