Omensent: Revealing the Dragon (The Dragon Lord Series)

by Barry Gibbons

  They set off deeper into the fortress city early the next morning after enjoying a huge breakfast provided by the anxious innkeeper, who seemed quite relieved to see Slither finally leave. They followed Bativa through the crowded streets for several hours until they finally reached a set of crossroads near the center of the city.

  "Halt!"

  A group tattooed tribesmen hurried up to block them from going any further, their weapons held at the ready.

  One of the men, large brute of a man whose face had been tattooed extensively, stepped forward, his eyes blazing in fury. "That creature shall not take another step!" His lips were curled back in a snarl as pointed to Slither with his sword.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Bativa roared at the man in a outraged tone.

  "C-Chieftain B-Bativa!" The tribesman stammered in surprise. "Are these people with you?"

  "They are." The huge man snapped, causing the man to jump nervously. He looked at the tribesman and his fellows pointedly. "You and your men do not appear to belong to any of the street patrols. Why have you taken it upon yourself to start harassing passersby?"

  "I-I..." The man swallowed hard. "W-We noticed that wretched creature traveling with these strangers, and knew they must be criminals, so we..."

  "And you thought you would take it upon yourselves to be a nuisance? Do you know who these travelers are?"

  "Chieftain Bativa, I just thought..."

  "Silence!" Bativa cut him off with a disgusted snarl. "Do you see that warrior mounted upon that warhorse? Do you know who that man is?"

  The tribesman glanced at Damion, then shook his head. "I'm afraid I do not, Chieftain."

  "That is the Dragon Lord, you dolt!" The huge chieftain looked livid. "And you are delaying him from some very important business that needs to be brought before the Council!"

  "The D-Dragon Lord?" The color drained from the tribesman's face as he turned back to stare at Damion, his mouth agape.

  "And this 'wretched creature'," Bativa gestured to the huge shadowspawn, who was watching the armed soldiers cautiously, clearly ready to react to the first sign of aggression. "is the Dragon Lord's only child's bodyguard, Slither."

  The tattooed warrior looked as though he were about to faint. Several of his companions took advantage of his berating to quickly disappear into the passing crowd, clearly wanting nothing else to do with the situation.

  "Not only have you succeeded in delaying the Dragon Lord and insulting his daughter's personal bodyguard," The huge chieftain continued in an unrelenting tone. "you accuse him and his family of being criminals!" He shook his head in angry dismay. "Not to mention the fact that you are impeding Council business."

  The tribesman just stood there staring at Damion in terror, overwhelmed and unable to respond.

  "What are you going to do to him?" Leia asked curiously, clearly offended by the warrior's attitude.

  "I don't know," Bativa started, glancing back at the young girl with a twinkle in his eyes. "What do you think we should do with him?"

  "Hmm," Leia pretended to consider it for a long moment. "I guess we could feed him to Tempest. Dragons require quite a bit of food, you know."

  The sudden sound of liquid pooling on the ground reached their ears as the tattooed tribesman lost control of his bladder.

  "Good god, man!" Sly snorted in disgust. "The girl was only jesting!"

  "No, I wasn't." Leia told him, winking at the scruffy man.

  "You can't feed him to Tempest." Damion told his daughter in a firm tone. "She was sick for a week after she ate that last fellow."

  Damarius, Dar, and Raven were valiantly trying to muffle their laughter as they watched the fierce looking tribesman quake in his boots with fear.

  "We could always have father turn him into a toad," Leia suggested, her tiny little face thoughtful. "or perhaps a dung beetle."

  "Oh god!" The tribesman finally reacted, dropping to the ground before them in submission.

  "Get up!" Bativa commanded in a scathing tone. "You're a disgrace!"

  The tribesman scrambled back to his feet, his face still white with fright.

  "What is your name and clan?" The huge chieftain demanded, crossing his arms angrily.

  "My n-name is K-Krass, Chieftain," The man stammered fearfully. "I am of the Nacetre tribe."

  "Ah, now your arrogance makes sense." Bativa turned to look at Damion. "He is one of Krel's tribesmen."

  "Krel? That jackass that gave us such a hard time during my first visit?"

  "The very same. His arrogance seems to have rubbed off on his tribesmen." He turned back to the cringing warrior. "I'll be speaking with Krel tomorrow when the Council reconvenes. I suggest you do not cross our paths again, or I just may ask the Dragon Lord to go ahead and turn you into a toad."

  "Or a dung beetle." Leia chirped, causing everyone but the tribesman to chuckle.

  "T-Thank you, Chieftain," The tribesman glanced at Damion with fearful eyes, then dashed off into the passing crowd.

  "This is fun!" Leia giggled, causing them all to burst out laughing again. "I never knew it was so entertaining to bully people."

  "Feed him to Tempest?" Raven asked her daughter pointedly, trying valiantly not to smile.

  "It got his attention, didn't it?"

  "That it did!" Dar laughed. "I've never seen a grown man wet himself before!"

  "He'll never overstep his authority again, that's for sure." Bativa agreed with a tight grin. "I'll be surprised if he ever shows his face in Mercedia again!"

  They continued to follow Bativa for another hour or so, until they finally reached a strange looking platform that was built into a tall shaft that disappeared into the upper levels of the fortress. They checked their horses at a nearby livery, then the huge tattooed chieftain gestured for everyone to step onto the platform, and calmly pulled a lever that had been built into the floor. With a groaning shudder, the platform slowly began to rise up the shaft, slowly gathering speed the higher they rose.

  “This platform will take us most of the way up to the council room.” The Deola chieftain explained to Damarius, who seemed fascinated by the strange contraption. “It was built centuries before the upper levels of the fortress. It has a series of weights and counterweights that allow it to rise and fall, depending on which way you throw the lever.”

  Slither was completely captivated by the strange sights and smells of the upper levels of the fortress, and listened to Bativa's every word with utter fascination as the tribesman proudly explained the different functions of each level of the city as they rose passed.

  They finally reached the upper levels of the colossal fortress that were reserved for strictly for the members of the Deolan Council, and quickly made their way through the broad avenues to Bativa's private apartments.

  "I sent word ahead warning them to expect us." Bativa informed them as he led them through a set of elaborately carved wooden doors and into a lavish entryway. "I thought we might enjoy a nice meal before getting some rest. We'll go to see the Council first thing in the morning."

  He led them down a long corridor to a large dining hall that was dominated by an enormous table capable of seating at least thirty people. It had been constructed from a single piece of oak that had been inlayed with gold, silver, and pearl, and polished until it gleamed. The edges of the table had been engraved with an elaborate scene of warriors on horseback, and the massive base carved to look like a herd of stallions stampeding through the grasslands.

  "Gods!" Sly exclaimed, staring at the table in astonishment. "That table must have cost a fortune!"

  "A small fortune, yes." Bativa admitted with a shrug. "I'm one of the Deolan Council. Certain things are expected of me, including owning ridiculously expensive items that could feed an entire kingdom for a month."

  "That explains this place." Dar murmured, looked around at the richly decorated dining hall. "I shudder to think how much you have invested in this place."

  "My tribe is quite prosperous. Our cat
tle and horses are considered the very best, even among the Deola. The price I get for just a few head of cattle could run Sevria for a month."

  "Really?" Sly asked, dropping unceremoniously into one of the cushioned chairs positioned around massive table. "That much?"

  "Oh yes," Bativa assured him, puffing out his chest proudly. "It's said when you eat the flesh of my tribe's cattle, it adds five years to your life." He grinned wickedly. "Of course, that's just a rumor we started ourselves to help spread the word that the Avonte tribe has the finest cattle in all of the four continents."

  They settled down to enjoy a succulent meal of roasted beef and potatoes, washing it down with large amounts of foaming ale, then, once everyone had eaten their fill, the servants led them all to spacious rooms so they could rest.

  They rose early the next morning to make themselves presentable to go before the Council, then met in the enormous dining hall to enjoy breakfast.

  "Are you prepared to go before the Council?" Bativa asked Damion curiously as he piled his plate full of sausages and potatoes.

  "As ready as I'm going to be." The huge warrior shrugged, filling his goblet with spiced wine, and then draining it dry. "I'm hoping that the other chieftains will have learned some semblance of manners since my last visit."

  "Don't hold your breath." Bativa snorted in amusement. "They are all beginning to grow stubborn in their old age. It seems as though we cannot agree on anything anymore."

  Damion sighed. "I had the feeling this wasn't going to be easy."

  They greeted Raven as she entered the hall carrying Leia, who was dressed in a pretty pale blue gown, but appeared to still be half asleep. Slither followed behind them closely, obviously still doing his best to remain at the young child's side.

  "Where's Dar, Sly, and Damarius?" Damion asked curiously, taking his drowsy daughter into his arms. Leia's eyes remained closed as she nestled closer to the big warrior, though her nose started to twitch as she began to smell the banquet laid out before her.

  "Dar and my father said that they were going to try to rouse Sly." Raven informed him, sitting down across the table from her husband. "Apparently, he was up late getting drunk."

  "I wasn't getting drunk." Sly grumbled defensively as he trudged into the hall carrying Damion's armor, which had been cleaned and polished until it gleamed. "I was busy cleaning and oiling Damion's armor. We need to look our best when we appear before the Council. A little showmanship couldn't hurt. It might even help our chances in convincing some of the more stubborn councilmen." He gave Damion a sour look. "When was the last time you gave your armor a thorough cleaning? It took me half of the night to scrub off all of the rust."

  "It's been a while." Damion admitted a bit shamefaced. "We've been on the move quite a bit lately, and I haven't really had much of an opportunity to get to it." He looked closely at the gleaming armor, which was made up of hundreds of overlapping steel scales. "You did a really good job, Sly. I should have you tend to my armor more often."

  "Keep dreaming." The scruffy little man dropped the armor next to Damion's chair, then wandered over to flop into his own.

  "Did you happen to see my father anywhere?" Raven asked curiously, pouring honey butter over a piece of fresh baked bread.

  "I'm right here, my dear." Damarius swept into the room followed closely by Dar, who had an amused expression on his childlike face.

  It was obvious the old man had taken great pains in getting prepared to go before the Deolan Council. His long flowing scalp lock and beard had been carefully groomed, and he had discarded his normal patched and stained traveling robes for new flowing white robes that had mystical symbols embroidered in gold along the collar and cuffs. He carried a unique looking staff which appeared to be made up of several pieces of oak that had been twisted and molded together into one piece, and topped with a strange crystal in the shaped like a writhing flame, a gift given to him by Damion a few years before. "How do I look? Do I give the impression of the wise and venerable wizard?"

  "You look like a fairytale wizard." Damion assured him, snatching a sausage from a nearby platter. As soon as he tried to take a bite, though, Leia's eyes popped open and she quickly snatched the sausage from his hands and stuffed it into her mouth. "Hey! That was mine!"

  Leia ignored him as she laid her head back and closed her eyes, chewing her stolen sausage with contentment.

  "Where did you get that getup?" Sly asked, clearly trying to contain his laughter.

  "I had it made after we returned from rescuing little Leia." Damarius told him, not noticing as the little man covered his mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle his laughter. "I figured it might come in handy some day. This is the first chance I've had to wear it."

  "It definitely becomes you." Raven assured him, hiding her own amusement much better than Sly.

  Leia yawned sleepily and rubbed her eyes, then suddenly burst out laughing as she noticed Damarius, who was still busy fussing with his robes.

  "Don't listen to her." Dar assured the old man, who suddenly looked crestfallen. "You absolutely look the part." The childlike sprite looked to Bativa. "What do you think?"

  "He'll get the Council's attention, without a doubt." The chieftain replied with a perfectly straight face.

  "Are you still up for joining us?" Damion asked Slither, who was busy shoveling sausage after sausage into his mouth. "We'll understand if you would rather stay here and wait for us to return."

  "SSSlither will join you." The huge shadowspawn hissed firmly. "SSSlither will not leave little Leia."

  "That's good." Bativa smiled happily. "I'm looking forward to seeing the other council member's expressions when they finally see you. They're probably going to soil themselves!"

  They quickly finished their breakfast, then Sly helped Damion into his armor, and they set off following the Deolan chieftain as he expertly led the way through maze of street-like corridors. After a couple of hours, they finally reached an enormous set of winding stairs that led to the highest levels of the immense fortress.

  "I hope you're ready for this." Bativa told them as he started up the stairs. "Don't be surprised if a few of the councilmen call to have you thrown out. Just stay calm, and let me handle it."

  "He's talking to you." Sly grunted at Damion.

  "Don't worry about it." The huge warrior assured him with a dismissive wave. "I'm not as young and hot tempered as I used to be."

  "Says the man who once turned another man into a tree." Raven snickered in amusement.

  "You can actually do that?" Bativa asked in surprise.

  "Of course." Damion shrugged. "It's really not that difficult, once you know how."

  The huge chieftain turned to stare at Damion for a long moment, then shook his head helplessly. "I can never tell if you're serious or not when you say things like that."

  Chapter 8

  "Greetings, Chieftain Bativa." One of the tattooed warriors who guarded the doors leading into the Deolan Council greeted the huge chieftain as they approached.

  "Good morning. Have the other council members arrived yet?"

  "They have, though they have only just arrived." The warrior looked at the others. "You have brought guests. Are the other councilmen expecting outsiders?"

  "No, they're not," Bativa frowned. "but news has reached me that the rest of the Council needs to hear."

  "I'm sorry," The warrior apologized with a pained look. "but outsiders are not allowed to go before the Council. You know this, Chieftain. The only outsider to go before the Council in the last few centuries is the Dragon Lord."

  Bativa sighed heavily, then turned to look at Damion pointedly.

  The tribesman stared at Bativa with a confused expression, then followed his gaze to the huge warrior, who gave the Deolan a cheery smile. "Dragon Lord!" He exclaimed, suddenly realizing who he was looking at. "Forgive me. I didn't realize it was you."

  "Are you going to let us in now?" Leia asked, a note of impatience in her voice.

  "Of
-Of course you may enter." The tribesman agreed, looking down at the young girl with slightly wild eyes. He gestured for his fellow tribesman to stand aside, then bowed deeply. "Is there anything you may require?"

  "As a matter of fact," Sly looked at the tribesman, his eyes speculative. "have a couple of casks of the best ale you can find sent to the council room. Everyone is going to need a drink after they hear what we have to say."

  "I'm sorry, milord." The tribesman held out his hands helplessly. "Any type of strong drink is strictly prohibited in the council room."

  Sly turned to look at Bativa questioningly.

  "Sometimes our discussions can grow... spirited." Bativa explained with a shrug. "It would not be wise for the council members to drink while having these discussions. War would break out between the tribes within minutes."

  They passed through the ornate doors and into a beautiful domed cathedral that had been built from floor to ceiling in a glistening white marble that reflected the sunlight that streamed through a half dozen huge skylights. The entire cathedral was void of any decoration, save for twelve ornately carved chairs that sat in a half circle in the center of the room. All but one of the chairs were occupied by Deolan tribesmen, many of whom were staring at the newcomers in surprise.

  "My fellow councilmen." Bativa raised one hand in greeting. "I'm happy to see you're all here."

  "What is the meaning of this?" One of the councilmen, an older man with a lean frame and elaborate tattoos covering his weathered face, demanded with a scowl. "Outsiders are not permitted to come before the..." He stopped mid-sentence as his eyes fell upon Damion.

  "Hello, Krel." Damion smiled back at the tribesman, whose face had suddenly drained of color. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

  "Y-Yes, it has, Dragon Lord." Krel replied, clearly rattled by the huge warrior's presence.

  "Why so formal? Please, call me Damion. We're old friends, after all."

  Sly snorted in amusement, but managed to disguise it as a cough.

  "Allow me to present the Council of the Deola." Bativa told the companions grandly. "Thenke the clan chief of the Unta clan,” He gestured to the overweight, heavily tattooed man on his left. “Gredee of the Galaspe clan,” He continued down the line. "Suscep of the Noste clan; Wathre of the Hasht clan; Tonke of the Worashe clan; Cinte of the Calite clan; Druta of the Supece clan; Menke of the Asnote clan; Krel of the Nacetre clan; Fathre of the Decribe clan, and finally Jackal of the Alanoa clan.”