Dragons Blight (Valadfar Book 1)

by Damien Tiller

  “ Do I have any say in this?” Darcy asked hopefully but he already knew he didn’t. Harvey wasn’t known to be a man of gray. It was always black or white. You either did what he wanted or you didn’t do much at all afterwards apart from maybe make some worms’ fat.

  “ Do any of us in times like this Darcy. I don’t think you understand what will happen when people realize the coffers are empty. The city would tear itself apart.” Look Darcy I picked you as your family has always given their all for the service of the kingdom. Your grandfather thought in the Great War and your dad has been fighting the Poles for as long as I can remember. Your mother is off polishing off some posh foreigner somewhere making trade easier and maybe saving the city in her own way doing so. I had hoped after the sheltered life you’d been given by them you might want to make a name for yourself. Not to mention if you’re swift enough you might even be in time to save your father.” Harvey said with spittle forming on his lips. He was controlling his anger but barely. Darcy knew he would have to watch his words carefully if he wanted to avoid the dungeon.

  “What about the estate here?”Darcy asked hoping that might be his saving grace and he could stay. “ The ships will be claimed until this damnable war is over and the housekeepers can manage the running of the estate. I know normally if a household is left man-less it will be returned to the kingdoms estate but you have my word it will remain in your mothers’ occupancy. Look Darcy my time is scarce. This is a simple mission and will possibly save the blasted kingdom. At dawn in two days time a caravan will leave and you’ll be on it as a diplomat. All you have to do is carry a letter to the head mage at the tower. Now if you’ll excuse me I have an appointment with the tax office at the harbor. More ships haven’t been paying their full tithe.” Harvey turned from his window and with a look that answered more than his next few words froze Darcy to the spot. “Oh yes, if you keep this between you and me Darcy your ship receipts might get lost when you return. There has been a lot of rain damage after all.” This was something Darcy could have done without. Any chance he had at talking his way out of the harsh travel across the rough roads to the mages tower was gone.

  “Your will be carried out.” Darcy said with a bow as he turned and made for the exit of the throne room. Once outside the castle walls Darcy stopped his stomach churning he needed to rest. Standing in the cold wind and drizzle Darcy thought back over what he had just heard. The kingdom couldn’t run for more than a few days without gold and if that news became common knowledge it would give the White Flags the ammunition they needed to finally over-throw centuries of monarchy in place of the republic that they wanted. After all, the treasury on the White Isles was plump and bloated with stolen cargo. Darcy had been raised to respect the monarchy as they had lead the battle against the Dragons but in his experience, King Harvey put his own needs before those of the kingdom and the high increases in taxes and the almost weekly introduction of new laws, blackmail and new battle plans against one of the other races that inhabited the North of Neeska had started to make him wonder if handing power over to the White Flags wouldn’t be such a bad thing. But the civil war that would rage would take many lives and weeks to settle down. In that time the Pole’s would raid the city. Darcy shook the thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t think on it or he’d be overwhelmed. He’d been saying for weeks that he wanted the stress of running the estate taken away from him but he didn’t realize he would be freed of one hellish duty to be given something even worse. With the rain at his back Darcy staggered home in shock. The next two days were filled with rushed packing and trips to the market. Neeskmouth market was something to behold. Traders came from as far away as Lashkar Gah to the north and even the Greenstone Isles of the Tropical Bounding to the east. They traded in everything from fruit and vegetables to weird animals and brightly colored and noisy birds. None of these interested Darcy at the moment, for he was searching for the essentials he would need on the journey. Darcy had never been further than the city gates. Even though he was strictly speaking in command of a small fleet of ships he had never been out to sea so he was completely petrified of the journey ahead of him. His dreams, or rather nightmares, had been filled with endless plains and walking lost, barbarian raiding parties and battles. A knock at the bedroom door awoke Darcy, he opened his eyes and they blurred into darkness. It was around an hour before dawn and the rain outside had flared up again. It seemed like it had barely stopped since the celebrations. The season of Winnan, the freeze, wanted to stake its last claim before some brighter days started creeping in. They were now a few days into Nylar, the first month of the Brilanka calendar, it was known as the planting. The months when warmer weather started to walk out over Neeska but it looked like it would be late this year. The knock came again and this time the door slid open slowly. Granny walked in carrying the same wooden wash bowl as always at arm’s length. Darcy noticed that for an old woman she still had a lot of strength. Her arms barely shook and the water inside the bowl was as still as a mill pond, more than could be said for the sea outside. Darcy could hear the waves crashing against the docks even from this distance. He could make out the sound of the ships struggling in the harbor the ropes tethering them straining and creaking. The preparations had begun and the fleet of trading ships had been emptied of all but the essentials and the smiths at the harbor had been loading them with iron balls and shot in its place. Granny placed the bowl down next to the bed and reached inside of her gown, which Darcy noticed was extra woolly today and lined with thick wolfs fur. The weather outside must be truly bitter for the old women seldom seemed to feel the cold. From the inner pocket Granny pulled out two small sticks that she clicked together. They gave off a warming yellow light that slowly filled the room. Because of the shortage of wood in Northern Neeska the mages had begun making flash sticks. They enchanted two small sticks with the essence of fire and when put together they gently released it much like a roaring fire would have but using much less wood. Since the Scorched Land covered most of Northern Neeska wood was rarer than it had once been. That was the reason for first invading the Elvin lands of Alienage. They were the few people that could grow a thick forest of strong wood since the Scorch Lands wiped most of the countries woodland away. The fire sticks lit the room better than a candle and warmed it better than a fire. It wasn’t long before the chill faded from the room and by the time Granny returned for the second time with a steaming mug to ward off the last of the cold, it didn’t feel all that bad at all. It was a shame the traders from the tower didn’t bring many to the city as Darcy would have kept them burning permanently in his room if they were not always running out. After the usual morning routine of waking up, Darcy turned to Granny.

  “ Granny do you think you’ll be alright with this place alone?” Darcy asked as he slurped up a hot mug of milk. He asked the question purely out of nicety as anyone who knew the Dean estate at all, knew that Granny ran it. She would be glad of the rest if anything. Darcy imagined her with her feet up in his slippers flicking through the many books that lined the library enjoying some well deserved time off.

  “ Sire, my life will be a darn site easier with the house empty.” Granny said bluntly but with a smile. Servant as she was she still needed to stamp her authority over the Dean’s sometimes and this seemed as good a time as any. They had to remember they couldn’t do without her. Granny was getting old and it would not be long before she could not carry out the tasks she needed and the Deans would be looking for a new head maid. Before this happened Granny had to make sure she would be looked after in her old age and not left to rot away on bread and water. “This isn’t really about me anyway is it?” She continued shaking the image of the spinster sitting alone in her dank little hovel by the harbor from her mind.

  “I do care for you Granny.” Darcy replied lamely. “But no I guess not. I am just scared.” Darcy admitted, both to himself and Granny. “There’s nothing to be scared about out there. You’ll be travelling with a well armed caravan and f
rom here to Briers Hill the scariest thing you’ll face is the odd roaming wolf pack and as long as you stick to the roads they avoid them anyway.” Granny said as she made the bed. Looking quite like an old wolf herself in that coat, what with her gray hair hanging over it.

  “ I guess you’re right, although I hope we don’t get to see any wolfs. Sir Mel’s dog scares me enough and that thing is supposedly tame.” Darcy said before he finished off the last of the warm mug and placed it on the side next to his wash bowl. “ We’ll be gone for just over a fortnight. It’ll take just under three days to reach Briers Hill were the caravan will unload and another day to reach the tower. I’m not planning to be there long.” Darcy said and then pulled his shirt around him buttoning it up to the neck. He was due to drop the letter off, wait for a reply and head home. At least that was if everything went smoothly. “Just how is it you know about the road anyway?” Darcy asked partly interested and half heartedly just trying to prolong the time before he left. He wasn’t sure what he was most scared of the trip itself or meeting his father after so long. It had taken just over a day for Darcy to even realize that he would be stopping in Briers Hill just west of Hallow Fort where his father was stationed but as soon as he had. His nerves had flared. He knew he shouldn’t be scared about seeing his father. They were family after all but it had been so long the man was a stranger to him now. He had even thought about sneaking through without taking the time out to see him but then, if what the king said was true, it might be his last chance.

  “ I haven’t always been in Neeskmouth Darcy. I only came here when I was fifteen. Your Grandfather hired, well saved me really from a group of slavers heading in from the Western Reaches.” Granny said openly, though Darcy could tell she hesitated.

  “So you were a slave, I’m sorry to hear that. I wish I could do something .” Darcy said in an almost automatic response people had whenever they heard the word slave.

  “ Do you sire, being a slave and a servant isn’t all that different.” Granny said as she picked the empty mug back up. “I was relatively happy. I grew up travelling around the Reaches. I got to see a lot of wonderful things. Some terrible but that’s part of life. Female slaves have a rough time of it in the most civil parts of the world let alone out in a barbarian camp.” Granny said and a cold mask fell over her face. Darcy could guess what she had meant even with his sheltered upbringing.

  “You were, are a Pole then?” Darcy said trying desperately to relieve the awkward feeling that had flooded the room. “ They weren’t called Poles back then. I was a slave to the Iron Giants but aye, basically that’s right sire. Don’t worry I don’t plan to murder you in your sleep. That’s something the people here forget. The Poles aren’t some two headed Dragon looking to eat children. We’re just people to. Trying to improve our lives, a lot of the Western Reaches are mountains so there is not much in the way of plains to grow food and become civilized. That’s why they’re heading this way I think. Anyway I was just lucky to have been brought by your grandfather.” Granny said and Darcy saw her almost sag slightly in the dim light of the bedroom. She was old and always had slight sagginess and a hump but this conversation had seemed to remind her of just how much she had aged in the years.

  “ I’m, I’m sorry Granny.” Darcy said. He didn’t know what he was sorry the most for. The fact he had known Granny for the whole of his twenty seven years and never bothered to find out more about her or the fact that he now had. “I told you what I’m being sent for didn’t I?” Darcy said changing the subject.

  “ I know sire. It’ll destroy a lot of the Poles but I’ve been here for so long I don’t know if anyone I knew is still alive. If they’d got hold of it they would have done the same to you. It’s in our nature it seems. I sometimes wonder if things wouldn’t be better under the Dragons.” Granny said as she helped secure a fine fur satchel to Darcy’s back. “Look lad, I’ll see you in a couple of week’s time. Get going before you miss the bloody caravan and I have the king prancing in here with his dirty boots. I take pride in these floors you know.” Granny joked and they said their goodbyes.

  Chapter two - a nose for these things It had been three nights since the fireworks had lit up the skies to the North-East sending their glow across the Tower Plains. It had been a rather impressive display from the not so distant village of Briars Hill or so Calvin Drake had thought as he had watched it from the top chamber of the mages tower. The wizards of the tower had probably one of the best views of events across all of Northern Neeska. This was because the impossibly high build of the tower that the wizards of Neeska called home. It reached up an astonishing forty floors and jutted out into the skyline. It was not quite as tall as the mountains that covered the lands to the south but considering its slim build and the open plains around it the tower should have fallen over like the thin stone twig it was. It was made of stone that had been handpicked by the wizards of old and blessed with what the Brilanka Monks referred to as the life blood of the earth. It held the living quarters for all magic wielders who were not outcast in Neeska. The higher up the tower a mages chamber the more important they were. After the Great War and the beginning of the countrywide fear of magic all mages had started making their way to the tower and a university of sorts had developed at its base. It was made up of two large stone buildings made of the same shambling type bricks as the tower itself. The ragged rocks coated in ivy and other climbing plants made the building look ancient and alive, like some kind of sleeping colossal. As the number of wizards and mages that flocked to the tower had grown so did the need to feed and supply them so a massive garden was created which stretched a mile from the gates of the tower out to a stone wall that was there to both protect those outside the walls as it was to keep the wizards inside safe. The stone giant of a tower stood as the last bastion of society before the Scorched Lands and had been at the heart of the Great War. Calvin didn’t spare himself time to think of all of that though as he had watched the pretty colors and flashes of the distant fireworks. The view from the tower had been amazing. They could see clear out across the seven kingdoms. Fireworks had burst into illumination from the tiny village of Briers Hill to the Northwest and further smaller blasts from Port Lust at the coast that way. Directly west around forty miles Raidaridin also challenged the darkness with explosions of brilliance and of course the same bright flashes that had kept Darcy awake in Neeskmouth could be easily seen to the Northeast. The Arch Mage had actually given the students a week off over the centaury celebrations and as a teacher it meant that Calvin had taken the chance to rest. At the age of sixty three he was starting to find that he was getting tired more and more often and rests in the tower were seldom peaceful. You could almost guarantee that the Arch Mage would find something he needed doing or some student of Calvin’s would accidently set fire their dorm while trying to light their pipe with magic. Calvin had grown tired of teaching years before and would have left the tower if he had anywhere else to go. The only thing that really kept him there was the large and often excessive meals. As much as he hated doing it Calvin was a good teacher, he might have been fat and wheezy but Calvin could still muster a spell or two. He was a powerful mage in the tower. To the point that there were rumors that he might take the place as Arch Mage when the current one passed away but that didn’t seem likely to happen any time soon. So instead of worrying about the slim chance of promotion or the daydream to escape somewhere peaceful, Calvin spent his time teaching the young mages that joined the tower. Magic was something that came naturally to the ‘blessed’ and could not be taught to everyone. In those that could summon it the power depended hugely on two factors. The connection they held to the shadow realm, or spirit realm as it was often called because it was the world of the spirits. Valadfar was a living “creature” so to speak. Life flowed through everything, from rock to animal. This energy was used to give life to a new born baby and was released back into the flow when something died. What mages and wizards did was tap into this flow, this so
ul of the planet if you will. The realm between death and rebirth held great power. This shadow realm was a place of dreams. The life energy there made almost anything possible. It was the building blocks for the world. Mages grabbed small handfuls of the ‘anything’ and used it to make fireballs out of air. The second factor and possibly the more important if you wanted to avoid something from the shadow realm using your life force for its own gain or more likely setting fire to your feet, was training to focus the mind. Calvin had first found his powers when he was eight years old. He had been an orphan in Raidaridin before its occupancy. He had been there since shortly after his birth. Long before he knew he had a connection to the shadows he had been an odd child. The connections most mages have to the shadow realm can cause them to be a little, shall we say unusual. It’s not easy having a connection to a world that most people only visit when they sleep. Imagine if you can having the strangest of dreams you have ever had but being awake and trying to have a conversation at the same time and you might get an idea of how most young mages come across. It was the reason all mages are sent to the tower, they generally unnerved people. Well that and as soon as their powers were found. Some strong malevolent spirits that lived in the shadow realm could possess mages and this often had catastrophic effects. In Calvin’s case he had started his mages career with a minor catastrophe without the need of a demon or evil spirit. He was just ‘that’ kind of person. During a rather heated nightmare Calvin had awoken in what he thought was a cold sweat. If only he had been so lucky. What really had happened was that he had set fire to the boys bunk above his own. Whatever heated dream he had been having must have got a little too hot. The boy had leaped from the bunk, as could be expected, calling young Calvin every name under the sun and a few more beside. In his panic to put out the fire Calvin managed to summon a wind wisp, a small ball of air creature that normally remained hidden from the human view and caused havoc moving storms out at sea. This creature pulled from its normal habitat delighted in gathering the burning sheets and spinning them around the room like a white cotton tornado. Children were chased out of the orphanage by dancing empty dressing gowns and floating tables that were smoldering as the wisp took great pleasure in the new environment it found itself in. The two days it took for the mages tower to send someone to collect Calvin and stop the escaped spirit proved to be a very interesting time in Raidaridin indeed. The streets were filled with flying underwear, horse and carts soared through the air – which at times had an exciting turn of events and made for a change of scenery for the muck clearers and a few unfortunate pigeons getting a rather large dollop of their own medicine on the roof tops. Once inside the tower Calvin learned everything he could quickly. He learned magic like most people learned to read. The known magic of Valadfar was broken down into five main schoolings. The first schooling taught was Elemental, which was as it said, control of the elements. Considering Calvin’s event at the orphanage he had taken a real interest in this particular schooling and had almost mastered the higher tiers of elemental magic within two years. He probably took such a high interest in spells to control the elements to make sure something like orphanage never happened again. The second was curative, which was the hardest of all magic’s to master. The life-force wizards used from the spirit realm preferred to go onto creating new life not preserving current ones and like almost all mages and wizards of the tower. Calvin had given up on this class when he found he was not even able to remove a small splinter from his own finger let alone heal anyone else. The last skill the tower university taught was the Arcane. This was your odd job magic. Anything from turning invisible to telecommunication was under this umbrella and it was often the last the tower taught to it’s would be students. Students on the whole do not need to ability to vanish to get into mischief, it just added to it. The last two magic’s were banned, Necromancy, raising the dead or prolonging one’s life and Blood magic, consorting with demons and using either the casters or someone else’s blood or life-force to cast strong and extremely destructive magic. After a fast start to elemental schooling Calvin had not really turned down the pace and during his teenage years he mastered the arcane schooling. Calvin’s tutor had not planned very well for this and teaching Calvin the secrets of Arcane had meant that Calvin was often finding himself in trouble. After all if you gave a teenage boy the power to float and become invisible it was almost guaranteed he’d end up in the female dormitories. Calvin had almost been expelled from the school for his misdemeanors. This was an outcome most wizards dreaded. The best they could hope for in the real world outside the gates was a small hut somewhere making poultices or potions to put the spring back in brewers step. The worst and sad truth of it was many mages were still feared from the time before the Great War and were killed as demon worshipers. The towers walls were not just for show. Calvin had been lucky and allowed to stay but after years of studying without successes it wasn’t until the age of thirty two that Calvin’s curative skills finally showed themselves. Many mages never actually managed to master the ability to heal wounds so Calvin didn’t worry too much that he couldn’t use them and it came as a huge surprise when he could. Calvin had just presumed it was a blessing he would not get. He was due to leave the tower and had started to learn to be a gardener, it was that or apothecary which was the only real job opening to a failed mage. You see the tower could not keep people indefinitely as students. Wizards and mages either had to master all the schools and become teachers or ‘collectors’, wizards that travelled around collecting young mages and fixing issues they caused. Or they would have to work the massive garden, pretty much as farm hands. The only other choice open to them was to leave the tower and take their chances alone in the so called civilized world. Calvin had been lucky, the towers cat at the time, Mr. Fiddles, slipped from the uppermost window of the tower and verynearly hit Calvin, who was tending the gardens at the time. The forty story drop had left a slightly distorted red cat shaped splat on the tower steps. Calvin had managed, without thinking, to heal the cats’ wounds. The utter shock of it took over in the form of instinct rather than the trial and error of lessons. Calvin casted one of the most powerful spells a mage can muster - resurrection. It was a skill very few could cast and some argued should be re-classed as necromancy. Spells that raised the dead, in the case of say a zombie or skeletal ward would normally be punishable by death. However raising a fallen comrade or in this case a rather confused old moggy were never raised formally. Besides the Arch Mages chamber was at the very top of the tower and he wouldn’t ban a magic that he might well need himself someday. It was shortly after Calvin saved Mr. Fiddles – who went on to live for another exciting few weeks before he made the same trip to the ground after leaping at a sparrow – that Calvin was given his own class to train and had been doing this ever since.