Dragons Blight (Valadfar Book 1)

by Damien Tiller

  Harvey walked over to the window to take one last look out across his city in the mid day sun. The weather had turned nice and the season of the planting should be almost ready to begin. The streets would normally be full of tradesmen and workers preparing for the slump of Winnan to end and the business of the good weather to start but that seemed like a distant dream now. The sight that met Harvey was one of horror. Flames could be seen reaching into the sky from as far away as the harbor and black smoke coated most of the city in a chocking blanket. Celebration square was a mess of bodies and the black marble looked red. The stone hero’s of another age stood in dismay at the sight that was strewn around them. It made the litter of the centaury celebrations look tidy in comparison to the putrid sight of the dead. Closer to the castle a few private guards of the noble estates where still fighting the Pole’s in the street and the noise of battle sounded out like a muted chorus hidden behind the thumping at Harvey’s chamber door. People had been dragged out into the street and beaten for trying to save their homes. Women and children lay dead as the army pushed onwards. Harvey could see a young male lying still in the furrow that ran through the main Neeskmouth road. He recognized him as one of the serving boys and his pet dog. The dog had gone for a Pole soldier who had grabbed its owner and because of this they now both lay together to wait out eternity. Harvey could only be thankful that they seemed to be letting those that surrender live and even letting some retreat from the city. That was a good sign that the Poles planned to at least leave the city standing. If they planned to annihilate it completely they would have let none escape. They would need workers to rebuild the city and that would mean a chance to rebel. It had taken only four days from when the Poles had first been sighted for the city to lay in ruin. The ships bombing Raidaridin were due home soon but what would wait them Harvey dare not think. Harvey shut his eyes unable to take anymore of the horrors. Darcy should have been back with the heart by now. Harvey could only guess that he had met the same fate as the others he had sent. The Scorched Lands had taken yet another victim. Harvey truly felt that had done what he could to make the city strong. It was all for them. It really was. Harvey screwed his eyes even tighter. He had wanted to be remembered in history and he would as the king that failed the city. The last Handson to sit on the throne before the civilized world fell. Harvey opened his eyes, the sun stung them slightly. He looked out to the right from his window and could see the fallen gates of the keep. They lay shattered on the floor and the courtyard itself was filled with the enemy. The same enemy that now pounded away at his chamber door splintering the ancient wood and buckling the brass seals. Harvey wondered if they would kill him outright when they finally got through. He hoped they did. Sighing he walked towards his favorite table and with a deliberate significance knocked over the small wooden figure that sat at the location of Neeskmouth. “ Checkmate” He muttered. Harvey was ready. He walked to the doors by the corridor and lifted the beam locking them shut. They opened inwards knocking him to the ground. The seventeenth of Nylar would forever be remembered as the day the era of Handson’s ended.

  Chapter fourteen – history wrong Darcy held his end of the make shift stretcher but not without difficulty, for an old man Calvin was heavy and even between him and Fintan holding him on the top of the table it was still hard going. It was Fintan who looked more comfortable holding the weight out of the two of them but even that was barely as they pressed onwards wading through the ash. The weather was still holding out to be nice and the temperature was actually on the rise. This would normally be a blessing to find in an otherwise desolate place but when struggling knee deep in ash and carrying an extremely well fed fat old wizard, the weather being hot isn’t best of things.

  “ Are you sure it’s this way?” Darcy said panting. He could feel his arms shaking and he wasn’t sure if it was from the effort of carrying Calvin or from hunger. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he had eaten. It might have been yesterday or even the day before that. His stomach churned continually echoing like a wasp in an empty ballroom. His dry hands struggled to hold onto the rough wood of the stretcher. Darcy could feel his fingers growing more and more tired. It would not be long before his grip weakened completely and he could not face having to backtrack if they had gone the wrong way.

  “ Yes, at least as sure as I can be.” Fintan said leading the way. The sun was on its decent from the sky and was at their front so they should be heading east and the mountain path they had slowly been climbing up would hopefully lead out of the Scorched Lands and eventually on towards the Dwarfen kingdom of Goldhorn. Darcy didn’t bother replying, it was an effort he didn’t have the energy for. He didn’t understand why but he thought back to the story Granny had told him of when she was driven in the slave caravan across the Western Reaches. He couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been for her young legs. His own felt like lead and had grown numb. So numb in fact that he hadn’t noticed that they had been gradually gaining height out of the ash as the rocky road climbed higher. It would not be long before the path became too steep to carry Calvin up on his make shift bed but he showed no signs of waking. Calvin’s chest slowly moved with his hollow breath which came erratically and delayed. It was still labored as if the old mage was beat. His skin looked pale and the dark blue spaghetti like veins showed like a map across his skin. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and his lips were blistered and dry from the ash that whipped at them constantly. It seemed that whatever spell or blessing it was Fintan had tried to cast in the little hovel had not done Calvin much good. Neither Fintan nor Calvin noticed the condition of the wood had improved. The dry wood was not as splintered as it should be. Instead it looked fresh like it had just been cut, it was still rough around the edges but it had a color to it, some life. If they had looked underneath it they would have seen small green buds poking their heads out from the grooves. The Earth Mothers blessing Fintan had been praying for had started to show but it would take time, time Calvin may not have.

  “ Can we rest?” Darcy asked. He was well-aware they still had a long way to go but he could feel his grip loosening and if he dropped Calvin now it could kill him. The slope had grown harsher and the earth was all most solid beneath their feet. If he had dropped his end of the stretcher then Calvin could slide half way back down the mountainside and into the deeper ash.

  “ That shoulder still giving you grief?” Fintan asked feeling the strain himself but not wanting to admit it, when they restocked and came back for the heart he had to make sure Darcy didn’t think he actually had a chance of taking it from Fintan. Fintan wanted to maintain the upper hand just encase Darcy was actually any good with that over sized letter opener that he kept at his waist. However Fintan was tired, more than tired. He was exhausted and still feeling a little nauseated from the ship ride even though it was days ago. He had a mission for his queen to do and he would not let anything stop him. This was his one chance at becoming the adventurer he’d always dreamt he could be. He had grown fond of Darcy quickly but whatever bond of friendship was forming it would not stop him returning the heart safely to the Alienage.

  “ Yes, something to do with that” Darcy said looking to the sky. He had forgotten that his shoulder was wounded if he was to be honest, he should have hurt all over but for some reason he just felt numb. It was like his brain was a sponge that was drying out. He could feel himself inside like a passenger on a ship, he was within himself somewhere, deep under the surface but the edges had grown hard and callus. “Do you think we’re far enough away from the Dragons here?” Darcy continued as they slowly put Calvin down onto the ash. The table sunk slightly as the ash parted but slowed to a stop before Calvin disappeared below its pale surface.

  “I’m not too sure. I’d guess from the young one that you killed at the hut sure.” Fintan said remembering the sight of the beast slumped over the roof like a fallen bird. It was bigger than he had imagined Dragons to be when he was a boy fighting them with a stick in the forest. He d
idn’t know how far they would travel or how fast for all he knew they could be only moments behind them or they may never leave the mountains again.

  “How do you know they were only young? I thought no one had seen a Dragon in over a hundred years .” Darcy asked. That was the whole reason for the celebrations he had chosen not to partake in only a couple of weeks ago, the end of the Dragon rule and the time of man.

  “They were only young. You can tell from the softer scales on the underbelly. At least if they’re like the lizards from the Alienage. They change color when they mature.” Fintan said sliding himself down on to his haunches. It was funny really. He didn’t miss home that much at all. He was actually out on an adventure and the kings armor still managed to shine even through the thick coating of ash. The silvers and blacks glinting in the low sun made Fintan feel like he was a beacon of Elfishness in this desolate place. He could feel something in the wind. There was a tie to this place. The Earth Mother was watching over him. He would return home successful he just knew it. The few minutes that Darcy and Fintan had planned to rest turned into hours and sleep had taken hold so quickly that neither of them realized their slow labored blinks had become slumber. Fintan was the first to awake with a start. Something was coming. His long ears could hear it in the distance moving quickly. He slid silently across the ground barely moving a stone. When he reached the still snoring Darcy, Fintan gently rocked him by the shoulder, his hand hovering above his mouth. He waited poised as Darcy started to stir, before Darcy could make a sound Fintan pressed his hand down covering Darcy’s mouth. Darcy struggled to fight free but Fintan pointed silently towards the sky. Darcy soon realized the Elf was not taking the chance to assassinate him as he had first thought but instead was warning him of something much more dangerous. The shadow that soared above in the night sky was huge. It was easily fifteen or twenty feet long and the wingspan more than that. It flicked in the air and darted back as if it was searching for something. From the ground Darcy could see the glimmer of the beasts’ armor even in the darkness. Panic chocked Darcy and he couldn’t have made a sound if he wanted to, Fintan gagging him or not. His eyes darted around the make shift camp looking for what he did not know. He had an overwhelming urge to run but his legs had turned to jelly and the breath had vacated his body. They had only meant to stop for a while but they were both so exhausted. Darcy had lain down just to rest his eyes for a few minutes. How long ago was that? By how dark it was Darcy guessed at least four or five hours. More than enough time it seemed for this adult black Dragon to have tracked them down. Darcy’s pointless search of the camp was cut short as his eyes were drawn to the sky once more as the huge black Dragon made another pass this time lower. The Dragon’s huge wings beat with such force that ash and stone from the floor was actually sucked back into the sky in huge clouds that clattered down around them. The wind was strong enough that Fintan’s longer brown hair flicked in the breeze as if trying to reach up to the beast in awe. Fintan’s eyes were more accustomed to the dark than Darcy’s and he could see the thick armor that the beast wore. It looked Dwarfen in craft, old and sturdy. Either the Dragons had kept some slaves alive wherever they had been to dress them or this Dragon must have been wearing the blackened steel since the time of the blight. Neither option brought Fintan any solace. With the beast fading into the shadow once more Darcy pushed up and Fintan moved his hand but barely. He did not move back far for fear his footsteps would alert the dark Dragon to their location. Darcy could see fear on Fintan’s face for the first time since he had met him. It was almost more terrifying than the Dragon itself. Darcy did not know Fintan well but he had seemed so solemn and stone faced. He had barely broken any expression since he had slid down into the hovel but now his face drooped in fear, his wide eyes and his mouth dropped low.

  “ Calvin.” Darcy whispered barely making a sound. He couldn’t see if the mage was safe or not. Before he had gone to sleep Calvin looked like he was on deaths door but the last thing they needed was him waking up now, drawing the attention of the huge beastly Dragon that seemed to be hunting the sky. Fintan’s eyes widened as the words left Darcy’s mouth. He knew why Darcy had called out. He understood he worried for his companion but to risk talking. That was something Fintan could not understand. He did not reply. The screech came like thunder from the darkness. The huge Dragon appeared once more. It must have heard the whisper even from its distance. Fire lit up the night sky as the Dragon appeared in view. The torrent of flame barley missed the camp. The Dragon landed with a thud. It crashed into the ground sending vibrations strong enough to knock rubble free that slid down the mountainside. After a short pause the black Dragon staggered towards Darcy its huge head bigger than Darcy’s whole body. Its cat like eyes fixed on him unmoving. The world seemed to fall silent apart from the gentle clinking sound that came from the aged joints of the Dragon armor. This was followed by the sound of rock splitting below the Dragons’ massive feet as they slammed into the floor pushing it forwards.

  “ Run.” Fintan said to Darcy. At least he had meant it to be too Darcy but he knew deep down in his heart he had said it for himself, but he couldn’t move, his legs were frozen in fear. He had heard of the majesty and power of the Dragon lords of old but he had never expected to see one this close. Fintan recognized the emblem - faded as it was - that adorned the chest plate of the Dragons. It was the symbol of Neeskmouth during the time of the blight. This Dragon would have been one that had called the city home. Fintan was not sure if that bode well for them or not. They may escape with their lives but being a Dragon’s slave was barely a life to be saved. Darcy had not even heard Fintan. His mind had shut down in panic and he was fixated on the huge black Dragon that was now right in front of him. It raised its head up. Its neck seemed to extend, facing Darcy with a snarl. Darcy waited for the blast of heat. For the white hotness that would end the nightmare but it did not come. Instead to his surprise the Dragon spoke.

  “ So this is the little one that killed one of my children.” A voice that sounded like an earthquake roared out and knocked Darcy on to his back. “I can smell their blood on your hands. This is surprising, I had expected more.” The Dragon said almost sounding disappointed. It had wanted a challenge, something to test its strength against. It would not get that from the whelp that cowered below it like a cornered mouse. Noticing for the first time the rest of the camp the Dragon turned to look at Fintan. “Ah, a pointy ear is here too.” The Dragon said sniffing the air around it. Darcy could feel the sudden intake of air even from so far below the beasts head. The smoke that trailed from its nose vanished inwards before returning as the beast carried on talking. “And magic, you have a wizard. Quite the alliance we have here isn’t it. Just like the old days.”

  “ They talk?” Darcy said in shock to no one in general. A millennium of slavery and fear of Dragons was buried in his genes. It awoke when he looked at the creature in front of him and it was all he could do not too faint. Darcy’s mind was awash with every scary story he had ever heard or read about Dragons. Neeskmouth history was one of slavery to Dragons so they had been an ever present part of his childhood but the stories did not compare to the fear he felt now standing in front of the gigantic flame breathing and intelligent creature.

  “ They talk?” The Dragon said imitating Darcy as best it could with the deep booming voice that sounded like the roar of a volcano. “Of course we talk you foolish little tick. We ruled you for millenniums’ and we will again.” The Dragon said with a laugh. “You think you won don’t you. I can see that in your eyes. Your little city thinks it had won its freedom from us.” The Dragon lowered its head so that its foul breath and pointed teeth were at ground level. “Maybe for a time, that might have been true.”