Dragon's Blood

by Jason J. Nugent

  With the coming conflict, Lailoken wondered if the Order would soon come to an end. And if they did, so would the need for dragon slayers. The world was changing, and he was both a symbol of the old ways and the cause of the new. As both the agent of change and the instrument of it, he carried a heavy burden. What was to come frightened him.

  But fear made people act, and he determined to act on the side of right.

  Thirty-Four

  Myrthyd sat at a large black polished table in a room rarely used by the Order. He purposefully chose the setting to meet with the four Tower Keepers. It was set away from the rest of the Black Magus and easier to keep hidden. His meeting was important and he didn’t want prying ears and constant interruptions.

  Brindy poured mugs of ale for the participants, setting the mugs at the five respective places on the table.

  “You can stay when they arrive. I will need a record of this moment. When they try to swindle me and gain an advantage through our deal, I’ll need evidence of what transpired. Brindy, my boy, one day your name will go down in history as the chronicler of our greatest achievement. I do hope you’re ready for your fame.”

  The boy smiled. “I’ll do my best to not miss a thing, Kull Naga.” He finished preparing the table and fetched his sheaves of paper and a quill, ready for what was about to happen.

  Myrthyd cracked his knuckles and stroked his beard. He intended on not compelling the Keepers to his side. It would be much better if they came to the proper conclusion on their own without him interfering, but if the conversation took a turn, he was prepared. He patted the Blood Stone in his pocket, assuring himself it was at hand. What he was about to do was risky but necessary. He wanted them to know not only the extent of his power, but what they had to work with. He’d never attempted to link, but Drexon’s tome was clear: it was possible and extremely dangerous. If done incorrectly, it led to loss of power and possible death, never to be reborn again. It was a chance he was willing to take. The stakes were too high.

  A soft rap on the door indicated one of the Keepers had arrived. Myrthyd nodded to Brindy, who crossed the sparse room to open the door.

  “Keeper Enaxx, please come in.” Brindy opened the door wide and with a flourish of his hand, escorted the Keeper of the Crimson Tower to the table and Myrthyd.

  “Magus Enaxx, it’s my pleasure. It’s been quite some time since we met.” Myrthyd approached the Magus dressed in a deep red robe with a garnet tied around his neck on a leather cord. Enaxx was older, maybe old enough to be Myrthyd’s father, with thin brown hair and a long, pointed nose. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin tanned from too much time in the elements. He had a thin beard and crooked teeth.

  “My Kull,” he replied in a weak voice, bowing. Myrthyd grasped his hand and shook it.

  “Please, Magus Enaxx, have a seat. The others should be here any moment.”

  As if on cue, a knock at the door introduced Keeper Manathon from the Verdant Tower, followed by Keeper Ogran from the Blue Tower. He was a thick man with snow-white hair and black eyebrows and a black beard, and his bright blue woolen robe was tied with a black sash. Brindy held the door open for them and waited, watching down the hall until the last Keeper arrived. Keeper Romari from the Opal Tower. She walked with an air of elegance and power, her white woolen robe flowing around her. Her straight blonde hair hung down her back and was tied around her head with a thin leather cord. The rest of the Keepers stood from their seats when she entered, her piercing blue eyes scanning the faces.

  Myrthyd forced a smile. There should be no women as Keepers, but those in the north of Tregaron had held onto misguided beliefs; one more thing for him to correct while Kull. For now, he’d have to work with Romari and the Opal Tower because he needed them for his cause.

  “Keeper Romari, welcome,” he said. “Please have a seat at the table.”

  As the group took their seats, Myrthyd looked around the room. “We represent the combined authority and power of the Order of Eschar in Tregaron. What we decide will change the fate of our Order and our land forever.”

  Keeper Ogran cleared his throat. “Kull Naga, why exactly have you called us here? What do you need from us? I feel as though we’ve been left in the dark.”

  Myrthyd noticed Menathon and Enaxx nodding their ascent and Romari keeping her composure, not giving anything away.

  “My dear, Ogran, and all of you for that matter, my plan is simple: return Tregaron to its former glory. Remove the Drakku blight upon our lands and feed our people. Do those goals sound misplaced to any of you?”

  None said a word.

  “Excellent. Let me assure you, what we face will not be easy. The task at hand will take time to carry out. Centuries of Order neglect cannot be undone in one single event.”

  “Kull Naga,” Romari began, her voice honey sweet and alluring. For a moment, Myrthyd lost his thought. “We are here at your call, and as Keepers of our Towers and Order tradition, we don’t take kindly to accusations that we are negligent in our duties.”

  “Keeper Romari, no one is accusing you of anything. I brought you all here to share my grand vision and to seek your support for what’s to come.”

  “What exactly is to come?” Her blue eyes fell on him, making him feel as though she would strike out at any moment. He’d have to be careful with her.

  “A return to greatness. No more hunger. No more Drakku influence. Imagine: a world where we rule without halflings and dragons.”

  Enaxx spoke. “I for one would welcome that day. Whatever you have planned, I expect to know soon. You’ve talked a lot with little to show for it.”

  “And that is why I’ve summoned you all here. I’ve learned a thing or two since becoming the Kull. Here. Grab my hand.” He reached out to Menathon to his left and Ogran to his right. “The rest of you, grasp one another’s hands and complete the circle. I promise, you’ll appreciate what I have in store next.”

  Ogran grasped Enaxx’s hand, who in turn reached out to Romari. She gently placed her hand in his and hesitated to grab hold of Menathon.

  “Go ahead; he won’t bite.”

  The Verdant Keeper smiled and held his hand out for Romari.

  “Whatever games you intend to play, get them over soon.” Romari placed her hand in Menathon’s.

  “Be ready. You’ll never believe your eyes where we’re going next.”

  Myrthyd channeled energy into the Blood Stone, seeking entrance to the strange world and the night-wraith Chepon.

  The five of them were soon falling in darkness. Someone screamed. Was it Enaxx? Myrthyd wasn’t sure.

  “Relax, all of you. Give yourselves over to me and I will take us there. Trust me.”

  The darkness rushed past them. Myrthyd spotted a circle of color and directed them toward it. It grew larger until a valley appeared. Green rolling plains and sunlit treetops whooshed by. Soon they were standing on the ground.

  “Where are we?” Menathon asked.

  “Is this place real?” Ogran added.

  “I assure you we are safe. This is a real depiction of a real place, but yet it’s not real.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Romari asked, turning her blue-eyed gaze upon him.

  “What I mean is, it is like looking through a window that only sees out. They cannot see us. Only the night-wraith can.”

  “The…night-wraith? The dark soul of a dragon?” Ogran asked.

  “My servant and connection to this place. She is the instrument to victory.”

  A black streak crossed the sky. It was Chepon devouring the dream-state, eating her way across blue skies and leaving behind a line of blackness.

  “There she is now. Wraith, come!” Myrthyd’s voice boomed across the landscape. The night-wraith turned toward him and carefully dropped from the sky, landing in front of the group. Romari gasped. The others took a few steps back.

  “What is your bidding, master?”

  “That thing is hideous! It’s dead!” Enaxx cried out, pointing a
t it.

  “This is unnatural. It should never exist,” Menathon added.

  Myrthyd shook his head. “The wraith is under my total control. She does my bidding and has for quite a while. Wraith, take us to the valley. Show my guests the army we have secured.”

  Chepon looked on the rest of the Magus with her smoky eyes.

  “But Master…”

  “Do it now,” Myrthyd growled.

  Chepon bowed her head and extended a tattered wing.

  “Climb on,” Myrthyd said.

  When none of them moved, he went first. “Come. You have something important to see.”

  Menathon, Enaxx, and Ogran followed. It took Romari a moment before she climbed up the wraith’s back.

  “Hold on. I don’t want to lose anyone!” Myrthyd grinned and gripped Chepon’s back, clutching a spine in his hands.

  Chepon leapt into the sky, at first not going too high, then struggled to push herself and her riders higher and higher. Soon they were peering down on a landscape that flew past them.

  “Is that…the wall?” Menathon asked, pointing to their right.

  “Indeed it is. Can you see your Tower from here?”

  They all turned to the right and saw the tip of the Verdant Tower poking above a low cloud.

  “By Meanos,” Menathon whispered.

  Chepon flew steady and straight, heading for the valley in the Dragonback Mountains where Myrthyd had collected the gray-souls. The Keepers voiced their astonishment at seeing Tregaron from such a vantage point. Every once in a while, a dragon appeared and vanished again into nothingness.

  Treetops raced by. Impassable mountains were flown over. Myrthyd enjoyed the freedom in the air, but understood it came at the price of using his enemy’s natural inclination to fly.

  “Almost there,” he shouted over his shoulder, but not that any of them were listening. They were far too busy ogling the landscape. He heard them call out various features and landmarks, expressing their joy at such a sight.

  Chepon started her descent, dropping from the sky in a slow circle.

  “Down there is our victory.”

  The Keepers struggled to see what Myrthyd was talking about.

  “All I see are people,” Enaxx said.

  “In a way, they once were. Now they are our forces. Wraith, drop us over there.” Myrthyd pointed at a rocky ledge overlooking the valley. The night-wraith gently glided toward it and landed, lowering her wing for the riders to climb down.

  “Come this way.” Myrthyd waved a hand for them to follow him. He stood at the edge looking down. He heard their gnashing teeth and constant moaning.

  The rest of the Keepers joined him, standing to either side of him.

  “By Meanos, what is that?” Romari asked, holding a hand to her mouth.

  “That is an army of gray-souls. Those are—I mean were—halflings. Have you realized there have been no executions lately? They are why,” he said holding his hand out indicating the horde below.

  “How is that possible?” Ogran asked.

  “Because of the wraith.” He stated this as though it were a known fact.

  “The wraith?”

  “My dear Ogran, when I acquired the Blood Stone, it gave me immense powers over the Drakku. I’ve tapped into powers so ancient that no one even remembers them. What you see down there are creatures that follow my every whim. When we unleash them, the Drakku will have no escape. Halflings and those heretics in the south will have no answer for them.”

  “The Gray Army,” Menathon whispered. “You’ve summoned the Gray Army.”

  “This is the source of my confidence. When the time is right, we shall invade the south and correct their mistakes. We will be able to feed our people once again. The Drakku will be eliminated and not only Tregaron, but all of Rowyth will live under truth.”

  “Why show us this?” Enaxx asked. He and the rest of the Keepers turned their attention from the horde to Myrthyd, who grinned back at them.

  “We need to raise an army of our own. Slayers, crossbowmen, and foot soldiers. They will lead the charge and the…Gray Army, you called it…will finish it. Use your Tower guards to begin the process. They will all fall under my control, with Tukra at the head. I’ve given him command of the Black Tower troops, and he’ll be the head of the entire combined forces. You have two months to raise an army from your lands and send them to the Black Tower. We will be united in our cause for truth.”

  The Keepers stared at him, their mouths hanging open.

  “You want us to hand over our Tower guards and troops from our lands?” Enaxx spoke, his face betraying his anger.

  “That’s exactly what I want. Send me your best. Keep a token garrison at your Towers, but we need as many fighters as possible.”

  “Why not just send them?” Ogran asked, indicating the gray-souls in the valley below.

  “We need people who know when to stop and know when to collect the spoils of victory.”

  The Keepers were silent for a long time, when finally Menathon spoke.

  “The Verdant Tower will honor your request.”

  One by one, the Keepers fell in line, each one pledging their support. Even Romari, who seemed hesitant, finally gave her consent.

  “Perfect. You are all going to be part of history. One day, the chroniclers will look back at us as the saviors of Tregaron. Your actions will be remembered for eternity.”

  As they left the overlook on the back of Chepon, Myrthyd felt a growing sense of victory within. Gaining their support without the need of compulsion meant their decisions were stronger and carried more weight. They’d support him because they wanted to. They would finally unite to take on the most serious crisis Tregaron had ever faced.

  Thirty-Five

  An old storehouse on the edge of Kulketh was given over freely to the Black Tower and converted to a barracks. Myrthyd sent the call for any dragonslayer to come join his forces with the promise of leadership and coin. So far, he’d received fifty crossbowmen and close to thirty slayers skilled with the sword. Far less than he expected, but it was a good start.

  Reports from the other four towers were similar. They had a core group of dragonslayers, but not as many as expected.

  Myrthyd toured the grounds, watching as slayers practiced together. Brindy walked alongside Myrthyd, ready for whatever the Kull might need. The Tower Guards were added to the group, his head guardsman Tukra placed in charge of the forces. Myrthyd spotted him across the yard and walked his way. As he got closer, he stopped when he heard Tukra screaming at another Tower Guard, a new one by the sound of it.

  “Get your mother’s small clothes out of your ears, boy! You attack someone like that, and your throat will be slit in no time! Chop down! Chop down or you’ll die. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes…yes sir.”

  “Now do it again and do it right. Fail me and I might turn you over to the Drakku.”

  The guard scurried back to the fighting ring and was quickly dispatched by his opponent.

  “For the love of Meanos! Get back to the barracks and wait for me!” Tukra threw his hands in the air and turned away. He was a tall man, thickly built with long graying hair. Unlike most men, he was fiercely opposed to beards, saying they gave the enemy something to hold onto. His dark skin and black clothing gave him an ominous presence.

  “Tukra, it’s good to see you again!” Myrthyd approached the man, who bowed slightly. Myrthyd waited for him to rise and extended his hand.

  “Kull Naga, I wasn’t expecting you. My apologies if I was out of line just now.”

  “No, not at all! These fighters must learn discipline. They must be ready for what’s to come. Our future depends on it. Have you had enough food for all of them?”

  The Tower kept a supply of food for emergencies and Myrthyd had tapped into that resource for the army he was building. It wouldn’t last long, but he hoped it would make service more attractive.

  “We have. We’re also getting new recruits daily. M
y guess is we’ve received at least twenty per day. With the call out for three weeks now, we’ve grown steadily. I hear the other Towers are experiencing similar results.”

  Myrthyd smiled. He knew the numbers. Other than the tower in Bayfrost, all the rest were gaining recruits at the same speed as the Black Tower. The Lapiz Magus were far behind and ignored many of his calls to increase recruitment. They may need some persuasion to get on board, and he was ready to force them.

  “Kull, we lack weapons. The blacksmith is woefully behind. My estimates place our weapons at about half of what we need. I’ve directed more resources to him, giving him five apprentices, but it might be some time before they get up to speed.”

  Myrthyd nodded, knowing they were lacking, but also knowing the great gray-soul force he’d been accumulating would do the brunt of the damage.

  “Arm them with spears and pikes if you have to. Make sure the crossbowmen have an abundance of bolts. Those will be most helpful. Swords and maces are the least of our needs.”

  “But Kull, if we go to war—”

  “You forget, Tukra. I have a force unlike anything we’ve ever seen. They will be our battering ram and our shield. You will have Magus protection when we engage the enemy. We’ll be more equipped than you imagine.”

  “Yes, my Kull.”

  A small boy ran up to Tukra.

  “Sir, my apologies for the interruption. A fight has broken out in the barracks. Cernod sent me to fetch you.”

  “Always with the fighting! Tell him I’m on my way.”

  The boy ran off, slipping in the dirt as he turned a corner.

  “I must attend to the brutes. Please forgive my haste.”

  “Do what you must, Tukra. Get these men ready. We have a war to fight and a land to save.”

  Tukra bowed and loped off after the boy, his gray hair flowing behind him.

  “Brindy, you are witness to an amazing and wonderful time in Tregaron history. I want you to record history as it unfolds. Can you do that for me?”

  The novice turned to Myrthyd. Though he was only a few years younger, Myrthyd saw the boy as barely able to think for himself, as though he needed a wet nurse.