Dragonsphere (The Fallen King Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Fierce

  Kelron turned his head to the invisible stench in front of him. “Even so, I still do not understand why you do not leave the Tunnelor at least allow the rest of us to do soand eat an animal that makes its habitat above ground and lives off something other than feces and rotting carcasses of its fellow cave creatures.”

  “Because,” said Kelros, leaning his head down into the creature’s body, ripping a limb off with his massive jaws, swallowing it whole. “Father Ean has ordered that we stay in the Tunnel, where we will be unseen by men who would destroy us or attempt to use us for ill purposes. I might also have you remember that both you and I fare much better than our brothers in the center point of the Tunnel where the five branches meet. Father Ean has let us come this close to the entrance on the Red Island. At least there is some small chance of getting some animal strayed from its home on the mountain.”

  “I would question the thinking behind his decision to keep us hidden. I feel no need for protection from men. As for stray creatures from the over-world, I have not yet seen one since we entered the Tunnel,” said Kelron, reluctantly biting out a large piece of flesh from the mess in front of him, hardly taking the time to chew it as he forced the seemingly resistant food down his throat, trying his bestunsuccessfullynot to taste it.

  “I haven’t seen much of anything since we entered the Tunnel,” stated Kelros.

  “Indeed Kelros,” said the young Serpentaur. “It has been a long time since we have entered the Tunnel.”

  The elder Serpentaur took another bite from their meal, swallowing the rancid morsel. “It has been some eight or nine days we have lived here in hiding, I would imagine.”

  “Thank you so much, Kelros, for letting me know information that will make the rest of my eternal stay here much more bearable, being able to count the endless days we waste in here, while the Ai knows what is going on up there that might require our assistance,” said Kelron sarcastically, stamping a hoof impatiently. “I am sure it will be of such great joy to the rest when we tell them that.”

  “I am sure it will,” snapped the elder of the Serpentauri. “It certainly amazes me how much patience I never knew I had, having been stranded in this Tunnel for over a week with you as a test of it. Now, if you will shut your ever-opened jaw and stop complaining, Father Ean is coming. I would prefer to listen to some new news from above ground for a change.”

  Except for a smoke-filled snort in reply from Kelron, the two Serpentauri remained in silence as they heard the footsteps of Father Ean grow steadily in volume as he drew closer. “Greetings, cousins,” said Father Ean, invisible in the absence of light. “How fare you in the darkness of this Tunnel?”

  “If you could call it fare, we have plenty of these stomach-wrenching little …” said Kelron, stopping himself so as not to offend Father Ean. “We do not seem to be dying of starvation, Father Ean,” he finished.

  Ignoring his friend’s comments, Kelros lowered his head to what was left of their meal and set it ablaze. The smell of burning scales and flesh almost caused the Serpentauri to vomit.

  “A light by which to see, and no great loss of good food to Kelron, although our stomachs do seem to agree on the matter of food. Tell us, Father Ean: what news today, or tonight for all it really matters, do you bring from the Red Island?”

  Father Ean cupped his hand over the top of his staff, putting the weight of his body on it, resting his chin on his hands. A large sack lay by his feet.

  “Just about sunset when I entered the Tunnel,” he said. “As for news? Mostly ill news, yet maybe some might seem good to the two of you.”

  “I was afraid of that,” muttered Kelron under his breath.

  “Become familiar with it, my cousin,” replied the old prophet. “You will hear much more such news, and most likely far worse in the near future. Both the Lady Moren and the Lord … the Lord … the Lord … I cannot seem to remember his name. The Priest and Priestess I told you earlier about have both returned from their journeys into the Island.”

  “How did they fare?” asked Kelros.

  “The Lady Moren was somewhat successful in her task, and was able to push whatever body now governs the Five Islands into mobilizing the Priesthood’s allotted five hundred men and any who wish to join, one hundred for each Island.”

  Kelron snorted into the fire, his flames disappearing into the burning carcass. “They mock the Lord Aio. Only five hundred?”

  “Only five hundred,” confirmed the aged man.

  Kelros flicked his forked tongue about. “And of the Lord … the Lord … the other one. The Priest. What of him?” Father Ean looked about him, finding a large enough stone near the fire to his liking and sat on it.

  “Much the same, only worse. Of all the Priests and Priestesses on this Island, one has promised his full and unconditional loyalty and aid. The rest havein a more courteous mannerrefused to even acknowledge the Lord Imen his new position.”

  Kelros lowered his head. “Pity for the Aihi. It was not as hard for our race those five hundred years past. What precious few surviving priests lived on the Five Islands at the time of our ancestor’s departure fought alongside us. This group of priests sounds to be the type that would fight against us.”

  “Yet by the Ai,” said Kelron, “how are we expected to fight a host of Orcs in the thrall of Orlekmay he eternally rot in the Endless Depthswith five hundred fighting men, maybe two hundred Serpentauri, an ancient, though powerful, gardener, a handful of warrior priests newly ordained, and a tenth of the farmers and laborers on the Red Island?”

  Father Ean sighed. “With only what we have, it cannot be done. It is impossible. I have faced many great difficulties in my all-too-long life. The empires have risen and fallen under my watchful eye. The world has undergone changes in such a manner and to such lengths that your language would not have words for it, and I was present. I have fought alongside the greatest of warriors, and have helped to defeat the greatest of foes. Even with my assistance, however, this trial that faces the Lord Imen has only been surpassed by one other, some ninety-five years ago. As with this battle, Orlek was the enemy.”

  “Yes,” said Kelros, his serpent head nodding. “And this time, the Council of the High Priests is not aided by the Great Lord Aio being present among its members. If I recall your stories correctly, Father Ean.”

  “In the physical sense, no,” said Father Ean. “However, this half-millennium old battle is between Orlek and the Ai, not between Orlek and the Aihi, though the Orc king would wish to destroy all men, Serpentauri, and his own people as well. We can rest assured that the Ai will enter the battle,” he paused, “in his own time and manner.”

  The old prophet pulled the large sack in front of him, opening it up. “I have something for the two of you. It is not much, but even I make difficult of stomaching the provisions of the caves and tunnels, and I can sympathize with your plight. My innards turn at the thought of eating a creature of this Tunnel, or any tunnel, for that matter.”

  He proceeded to take out two objects, both somewhat round and covered with feathers with two thin, scaly legs limply hanging from one end of each. Both were a dark brown in color, covered in blood, sticking to both the sack and Father Ean’s hands. “These used to be chickens, although the struggle which ensued obtaining them has changed that somewhat. I didn’t want to use too much magic. The Priests would notice any excessive use of magic, and I wouldn’t want to betray our presence for the wholeness of two dead birds.”

  Kelron stared at the two chickens. “After our rather distasteful diet these past days, it looks delicious. Not that I am saying it wouldn’t be delicious otherwise. You will be partaking with us, Father Ean?”

  Father Ean shook his head. “With your appetite, Kelron, I doubt there would be any left for Kelros, let alone myself. Besides that, I do not make it a practice to eat flesh, though I have had it in lieu of starvation at times. Before my return to the Tunnel, I overstuffed myself with the fruits of the laborers that
tend the orchards. The Ai has blessed them with an excellent harvest this season. Most likely the last one for some time.”

  “That is too bad,” said Kelron. “Fruits are usually too small for a Serpentauri to taste, unless eaten in large quantities. I am particularly fond of a good wheat … harvest, as I believe men call it. Where we come from, it grew wild in a small valley. Every autumn day when the harvest was good, I would venture to the edge of that field and help myself to some. Wheat is quite good when it is fresh.”

  “Some!” cried Kelros, half choking on his small meal, blackened and smoking feathers flying out of his mouth. “As if there would be any left for the rest of us.”

  Kelron appeared to glare at Kelros out of his serpent eyes, hissing. “At least you were given your fair portion when we would feast together.

  Kelros reared his head. “If one could call it a portion compared to yours, yes. Although I do agree with you on one point: your daily trips to the wheat fields would definitely redefine the word ‘feast’. Your eating habits are about as disgusting as our meal. You even eat the chaff.”

  “You should have tried it. It isn’t that bad,” said Kelron.

  Kelros sighed in frustration, smoke and tiny flames coming out from between his jaws. The old man sitting on the rocks, almost forgotten in the exchange between the two Serpentauri, began laughing. “I shall certainly remember to bring some wheat to you, Kelron, the next time I leave, if that is even necessary.”

  The Serpentauri looked across the fire at Father Ean. “What is your meaning?” asked Kelros, cocking his head to one side. “You mean to turn these cave creatures into a field of wheat? At least it would put an end to my friend’s incessant complaint.”

  Father Ean shook his head. “Not at all. Although I have never considered that idea in my thousands of years as the gardener of Oakvalor. It would make them more lovely to look upon. I meant that I intend for the two of you to come with me to watch the Ceremony of Ordination of the High Priest Council …” he said, noticing the pleasantly surprised looks on the faces of the two Serpentauri, “… from a distance, but were a man to come near us, I am afraid that even my magic would not suffice were I hiding someone other than myself.”

  Kelron shrugged. “Magic, science, prophets, priests … all the same to me. I possess no magic, and do not mind it, as long as it does not harm me. I say that one’s fire is as good a defense as any, at least for a Serpentaur.”

  Father Ean looked upon Kelron for a few seconds. “You do not believe in the importance of magic, do you good Serpentaur?”

  The hungry one shook his head. “Not really. Don’t worry yourself. I can see how it would have its function in certain lives. Otherwise I would be feasting upon wheat instead of being holed up in a tunnel, even if that tunnel happens to be the Tunnel.”

  Father Ean turned his eyes down, staring at his feet for a second. “You have much to learn, Kelron. The influence which magic has upon us as living beings is far greater than even I can imagine. How does the sun continue its daily trek, age upon age unending, giving light by which to see and a magic by which even the growth of wheat is aided? Or how does the moon and her children, the stars, do homage to their master and bestow the beauty of their light upon the people? What makes earth suitable for crops, or wheat to grow wild on a deserted, unknown land?

  “There is a magic running deeply through everything that lives and does not live. The fact that the body of a man, Orc, or Serpentaur can live, that we think beyond the level of the two birds that have been devoured us a result of the magic. Even you have magic, Kelron, however limited it may be.”

  Father Ean stood up, stretched, and looked once more upon the two creatures in front of him. “Think on that, both of you, while I am gone. I must see to the other Serpentauri.”

  Kelros and Kelron both nodded as he stepped around the fire, heading for the deeper parts of the Tunnel. “Ai’au c,” they said in unison, using the ancient tongue of the Aihi. “May the favor of the Ai be upon you.”

  The aged man looked back at them, their massive figures but shadows framed by the firelight behind them. “Ai’au cn,” was his reply.

  “Most men can survive hardship, but if you want to test his character,

  give him power.”

  - Lord Aio

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “All five, murdered?” asked Imen, his face quickly losing its color. He shook his head. “Surely you jest, Lord Arum.”

  “As well as I might wish that I could, you of all people would know me better than to make light of such heavy matters, Lord Imen,” said Arum. “Erasen and I arrived on the centermost Island at roughly the same time. We found the other three messengers waiting for us. It is they who have given us this tragic news.”

  “The other three messengers were sent back to summon those who are to succeed the deceased High Priests and Priestesses,” Erasen added, “while we traveled here before them. The Ceremony of Ordination will take place the dawn following their arrival.”

  Imen sat back down on the stone, feeling the burden he was to bear settling upon his shoulders, slowly beginning to crush him. “Why must such a thing happen to me?” he prayed silently. “I am not ready. I cannot. Yet I must.”

  He looked upon the three people standing around him. Two of them were good friends, two of them fellow pupils of their deceased master. The death of the Lord Aio having repeated itself with the other High Priests and Priestesses on the other Islands, all three of them would look up to him almost as to the Ai Himself. They would follow his every word. In turn, it would be his word that would guide each follower to victory and safety, or to death and defeat. The correct command could save the lives of many, while the wrong command could be that which would lead all of his close friends to their deaths. Would he be forced to sacrifice these three and many others with them in loyalty to the Ai?

  Every muscle in his body strained, all but forcing him to fling his body over the cliff face to certain death at the foot of the mountain. His mind battled with equal force to overcome his instincts. He sat upon that stone, his body tense, his mind fighting against his body and for control.

  One more blade of grass. One more blade was all that was needed. All that was needed to break him. The troubles that were to come upon him by omen of the open Tunnel had already begun.

  Las laid her hand upon his shoulder.

  “It is difficult for us all, Lord Imen, when those who mentored us and guided us have departed, more so in the manner of this particular departure. Even more difficult it becomes when we must don their cloaks, seemingly too small to fill them.”

  At the voice of the soon-to-be High Priestess, Imen nodded, his muscles relaxing, his mind having temporarily won the battle. “It is difficult, however, for each of you. Lord Arum, you are to become a High Priest, and to sit at my right hand. You will have me to guide you. Fortunate is the Lady Las, who in becoming High Priestess of the Red Island will have not only myself, but also the rest of the Council to look to. To be envied are you, Erasen. You are yet a pupil, and will have all of us to hold your hand the entire way. Yours is but the responsibility to follow those who lead. As for me? Am I to be the one that stands in front, blindly leading everyone across the unknown parts of the future? The way is dark to my eyes. Who have I?”

  “You have the Council of High Priests,” said Arum, “as well as every Priest and pupil on each of the Five Islands.”

  “Perchance a mighty band of the Followers, or the military forces of the Five Islands,” said Las, trying her best to sound hopeful.

  Erasen cut in. “If I may be so bold as to speak to the Lord Aio, as you are soon to be called, Lord Imen. As well as to the soon-to-be High Priest and Priestess Arum and Las,” he paused, “he has the Ai.”

  All conversations immediately came to a halt, everyone looking to Erasen in silence, allowing the weight of his words to beat down upon them. Imen turned and smiled at Erasen. “You have learned well, pupil, under the Lord Daio, called Aio, to
remind Lord Imen of the most basic of the basics. I must now accept what I am to become. The way is still dark, but no longer does a blind man lead his sightless followers.”

  In saying this, he looked upward. The moon lived still, and the stars danced about her, beautifully decorating the blackness that dominated the sky. He still had one to follow. One unlike the Lord Daio called Aio that would never be found murdered in his hut. Not even one like himself, unconfident and afraid of leading everyone into the mouth of the giant Demon of Aihi legend. One far different.

  He shifted his attention to the Lord Arum. “I mourn with you your loss, and grieve with you for your advancement in the hierarchy of the priesthood, yet still envy you your position as lower than mine. Of the two, yours is the smoother path, for the time being. Very well then. Hail, Lord Arum, High Priest of the Island of Ban.”

  Arum grinned. “Hail, my lord.”

  The white-clad High Priest turned to the Lady Las. “And hail the Lady Las, High Priestess of the Red Island.”

  Las giggled softly. “Hail, Lord Arum, Lord Aio. If we are done now with our greetings, might we best be in shelter? Darkness has already overtaken us, and the night’s weather to the east bodes ill with me.”

  “A wise decision and great observance on your part. I am sure the Lord Arum is exhausted from the undoubtedly strenuous climb up the mountain. You will have him in your hut, Erasen?”

  “As you wish, Lord Imen, called Aio.”

  Imen let loose a small laugh as he led the way farther up the mountain trail to the huts.