by Alma Boykin
Between Flood and Flame:
A Cat Among Dragons Story Set
Alma T.C. Boykin
Stories © Alma T.C. Boykin 2014
Cover art: Anita Young
Table of Contents
Cadet Daze
The Cat and Lord Kirlin
Ghost Story?
Scales of Justice
Rings of Fire
Claws and Effects
Washed Up
Regency Period
Of Gods and Juniors
Wounded Cat
Other works in the Cat Among Dragons and Colplatschki Chronicles series
Cadet Daze
A.D. 3960, A.D. 3998
<
Her House Pet took off her weapons belt and hung it on the stand beside the desk, made certain that none of the servants were around, and stomped over to the window seat before she replied in Trader. “I’m about ready to tell roughly a thousand Azdhagi soldiers, courtiers, and a certain King-Emperor to shove their tails into an uncomfortable place. Stupid reptiles!” She glanced over her shoulder, adding, “No offense, boss.”
<
“Yes.” Commander Rada Lord Ni Drako folded her arms across her chest and glared out over the courtyard and gardens toward the far wall of that part of the palace-capital complex. “This generation of Azdhagi seems more lazy, foolish, or just plain stupid than their predecessors. Granted, it’s been a while since the last attacker set paw, limb, or foot on the soil of Drakon IV, but damn it, that’s no reason to get complaisant! Things are warming up again at the borders of the Empire and the geniuses don’t see it. And the troops have absorbed that attitude from their lords and officers.”
Rada reached back and unpinned her hair, letting the long braid swing free down her back, then rubbed the scar tissue below her missing eye. “It’s like the Traders—they assumed that their monopoly on trans-temporal travel would last forever, and didn’t see the loss of their business and markets until it was shoved in their faces.” It was still a sore point with the Traders and Rada wondered with a spare brain cell if it contributed to their continuing hatred of her.
And I am sooooo tired of seeing nothing but Azdhagi and Zabet, Rada sighed to herself. Granted, it’s nice to be taller than everyone for a change, and to be waited on forefoot and tail, but arrrrgh! A servant had poked his muzzle into the room. Rada glared at the low-slung, thick-tailed quadrupedal reptile. He gulped and retreated, leaving her in peace for the moment.
Zabet snorted and Rada turned to look at her boss and “concubine.” <
Rada’s eye narrowed. “You have a point there, boss. A leave of absence would force my officers to suck up and put in some effort, and as nervous as Defender Shainee is, he’ll call me back before any scares turn into debacles.”
Thirty-Eight Year Turns later . . .
“This one’s yours, cadet,” the sergeant announced, pointing to a sleeping platform. At least there were partitions around the sleeping areas here, Saetee thought as he set down his equipment and weapons. The open bay barracks they’d lived in for initial training had been a new experience. He’d shared a room with his brother, but never with twenty-five other males. Of course, by the time the recruits finished basic training, their ranks dropped from twenty-five to ten.
“Listen up, cadets,” the big reptile growled, dragging the younger male’s attention back where it should have been all along. “Necessary is there,” he pointed with his tail, “emergency exit is there,” and he indicated the clearly marked panel with a gauntleted forefoot. “You are now part of the Palace Guard, which means that if things get interesting, you are the last thing between the King-Emperor and the enemy. Keep that in mind, if you have room in your brainpans for that much information.” The sergeant’s growl suggested that the noncom entertained grave doubts about the useful volume within his charges’ skulls. Defender Cadet Saetee wondered if all NCOs were born sounding like that, or if they practiced like the priest-dramatists did.
Saetee waited until the sergeant dismissed the group, then started unpacking his gear. First he secured his weapons in the rack provided for them on the wall at the top-end of the sleeping platform. Then he spread out his mat and quilt, making certain that the corners matched exactly and that there was not a hint of a memory of a wrinkle in the material on the sleeping platform. Last, the reptile tucked his belts, robes and foot-covers into cubbies built into the platform. Once he’d put everything in its place, the young male carefully poked his snout out of the partitions, looking to see if there was a sergeant lurking around before venturing out to see who was where.
His new home looked plain but attractive. The golden-brown wood paneling on the walls shone almost as much as the black floor tiles did. Some windows high up on the walls provided light, as did the metal fixtures built into the ceiling. Saetee had counted eight bays before his, and he ticked off another eleven, so there were forty total in this part of the barracks. The young Azdhag wondered if there would be that many in the cadet squad. His dam’s brother had said that the Defenders were so selective that there would not be many in the cadet class, assuming that Saetee made it that far. “Lot of our officers came from the ranks. Lord Defender did too.” Of course, his uncle said a number of other strange things about the Lord Defender, so Saetee wasn’t sure how much to believe.
The other cadets had started looking around as they too finished stowing their gear. Saetee noticed that Kiels, Teerlo, and Charsii, the others from his squad in Basic, were scattered out along the rows of cubbies. Someone scuffed a bit from the bay to his left and the brown-blotched cadet watched a good-sized male emerge and look around.
“I’m Saetee, Neet’s son,” he introduced himself. He didn’t mention his lineage, Seehara, since they were all Defenders here and his Ancestors deferred to the Defenders’ spirits until he was released from the Defenders’ oaths.
The broad-shouldered, pale grey cadet tipped his head up and down in what was apparently a gesture of acknowledgment. “I’m Greyslee, of Greykin’s line,” he replied. He had a harsh accent and Saetee wondered if he came from one of the colony worlds.
“Greyslee? That’s an odd name,” tan Charsii observed, his expression curious.
The grey reptile slapped his tail down proudly. “Lord Ni Drako himself gave my lineage our name. I’m descended from Greykin, the female who helped re-take Burnt Mountain from the invaders during the Mercenary War.” Saetee had never heard the story but apparently some of the other cadets had and their eyes widened. No wonder Greyslee was so pale: uplanders tended to be light colored and heavier than low country reptiles. Saetee had never heard of a lineage taking its name from a female, either, but uplanders were also supposed to be strange that way; too much winter, or so his sire’s sire had explained. And why not give his sire name? Was he un-sired, a
storm catch, as the oldsters called them?
The sergeant’s return of cut short any further introductions. The cadets scattered back to their places as he inspected their sleeping spaces and gear. “Grab your weapons and fall in,” he rumbled, and the young soldiers did as ordered. “Let’s see if you can hit anything, sirs, or if you were just assigned those so you look pretty while on guard duty.” Twenty-one reptiles followed the green-striped noncom out of their barracks and through a maze of corridors to the outdoor firing range. “All yours, corporal,” and the sergeant lumbered off on another errand. Saetee wondered if all the firing positions were the same, then stopped wondering as the corporal running the firing line began calling off position numbers and names.
Cadet Saetee didn’t have much time for speculation after that. The next moons passed in a blur of short nights, long days, lectures, tests, and cleaning. The young reptile and his comrades might have been officer cadets, but they still had to clean their own barracks and gear and their efforts never seemed good enough. The golden wood paneling had to be polished and the black tile floors showed every bit of sand, dirt, or bedding fuzz that touched them. Cadet Teerlo managed to break his right foreleg on a training run when he misjudged a jump, and the Healer ordered him to go home and let it heal completely before re-joining the next cadet class.
Saetee had just thought that basic training was difficult: now he looked back at it with fond memories of sleeping more than three hours in a row. At least once a night, a messenger trotted into the cadet barracks and roused two or three of the worn-out males with orders to report to the Defense Coordination Center, or to de-brief a group of Palace Guards, or to take over the watch’s shift. Greyslee made the mistake of complaining about the disruptions to the supervising officer one afternoon. “Cadet, just how do you propose to persuade the enemy to delay attacking you until you’ve had your beauty rest, gotten your spines re-tipped, and talons polished, hmmmm? Do you need time to paint your tail, as well?” The brown and black lieutenant’s scathing snarl had carried across the entire drill area, making the others cringe.
When the cadets were not on the firing range, or the edged weapons and unarmed combat salle, or jogging long distances with heavy packs (sometimes on hind legs alone), they were in class learning history, tactics, and regulations until their heads felt like swirlpods and they could barely remember which foot was which. The only bright spot was the food. It was tasty and plentiful, with seconds and thirds available for the asking. “Growing reptiles need to eat,” Lt. Silsa had explained.
Saetee and the rest of his squad also learned that “rest day” was a relative term. At the end of the first sext, after inspection and the dawn meal (in that order), sergeants herded the cadets into a large room equipped with a holo-projector and some other technology that Saetee had only heard of before. A number of soldiers joined the cadets and the Defenders made just-slightly-muted comments about the new batch of reptiles. All joking ceased when one of the biggest males Saetee had ever seen walked onto the platform at the front of the room. “Be seated,” he boomed. The light glinted off his steel neck-spine tips and armored forefoot gauntlets.
When the rustling settled down, the grey-robed male swished his tail and studied the gathered reptiles. “I am Defender Seertar, the executive officer of the Defenders and acting Commanding Officer during the Lord Defender’s absence. Commander Rada Lord Ni Drako is currently off-planet, studying alien technology and military tactics developments. This is one of the Lord Defender’s duties: to learn all he can about our potential opponents. This is your job as well,” the hard yellow eyes swept the silent room. “So you will begin at the beginning. Sergeant?” And a hologram appeared beside the officer, who backed away into the dimness.
Saetee watched in rapt fascination as the story of the Defenders unfolded in flat pictures, video, and full-dimension holograms. He’d learned bits and pieces, but this was the first time that the entire tale fell into place. It began with the Great Relocation and the first Lord Defender, a former Imperial soldier who had helped oversee the migration. Then the time of the Great Shi-dan and his appointment of Commander Rada Ni Drako, now Rada Lord Ni Drako, as Lord Defender of Drakon IV. There followed a series of images of insects, reptiles, mammals, and something that was none of those that the narrator called the “death lovers.” The depiction of that one made someone in the back of the room retch and Saetee was glad that it had been a while since the dawn meal. He soon realized that one image was missing: images of the Lord Defender. He saw pictures of the King-Emperors since Shi-dan, of a few notable Defenders, and of some nobles who had assisted the Defenders during the combined invasion/civil war two generations before. But no images appeared of the commanding officer himself.
After the presentation ended, the Defender asked for questions. There were a few about tactics and specific invaders and then one brave soul inquired, “What does the Lord Defender look like?”
The big reptile bared his teeth. “He looks like your worst nightmare, corporal. In all seriousness, Lord Mammal ordered all images of himself to be removed from the bases and presentations after a few misguided individuals tried to burn incense to him. The other reason for his decision was this: our loyalty is not to the Lord Defender.” Several of the cadets looked confused and a rustle of hissed comments rose from the group. “Our loyalty is to the people of Drakon IV and to the King Emperor, not to the Lord Defender. Is there anyone here from Singing Pines or Burnt Mountain?” Greyslee waved his tail, as did three of the soldiers. “What do I mean?” He pointed to Greyslee, who jumped to his feet.
“The King-Emperor is lord of Singing Pines, Lord Ni Drako is our daimyo and serves as his Imperial Majesty’s talons, but acts only on his Imperial-Majesty’s permission and will,” the cadet chanted.
Defender Seertar thumped his tail. “Correct. And so it is with us. The Lord Defender, and you and I, are the King-Emperor’s sword and shield to protect his vassals on Drakon IV in time of war. We owe no allegiance to Lord Ni Drako except as he is Lord Defender and our commanding officer. And the Lord Defender swore his allegiance first to the people of Drakon IV and then to the King-Emperor only as his Imperial Majesty is commanding officer of all the military.” At least half the cadets looked very confused at this declaration. After all, everyone owed allegiance to their lord or guild heads, who swore to a greater lord or to the King-Emperor himself. So as members of the Defenders, they should swear to Lord Ni Drako, but obviously they did not. Saetee thought he understood the idea, but it struck him as utterly strange and a little unnerving, like a ramp with a piece missing from the middle.
Apparently Defender Seertar noticed the confusion, or the Defenders’ commander had anticipated to it, because the classes during the next sixt focused on the Defenders’ Oath, the place of the Lord Defender and his Oath, and the workings of the government of Drakon IV. That is, when the cadets were not being chased around by their officers, politely called idiots by the supervising NCOs, or trembling with fear at the rumor that his Imperial Majesty would be inspecting the barracks himself. Saetee thought he understood things, but he still wondered why the Lord Defender remained outside the government, unlike every other noble. “Because he must,” the instructor explained patiently. “The Lord Defender commands the armed forces of Drakon IV, does he not?”
“Yes, Master Kee,” brown-blotched Saetee agreed.
“What would happen if he were to take sides in a court dispute, Cadet Saetee?”
He thought about it before guessing, “He could control the government? Ah, no Master Kee, that’s not right. But Lord Ni Drako could sway policies and laws.”
The old archivist gestured his affirmation. “That is correct. And because of what Lord Ni Drako is, he cannot be allowed to do that, neither can any other Lord Defender. Thus the oath and the lack of property, aside from that held by the Lord Defender prior to his elevation to the position. Lord Ni Drako is permitted to reside at Singing Pines and to take the Daimyo’s Tenth from that e
state as well as from Burnt Mountain, but only at the will of his Imperial Majesty.”
Eventually it would all make sense, Saetee decided as he resumed his seat. He’d never had a head for learning, which was why he’d decided to try to get into the Defenders to begin with. But he was discovering a new aptitude for logistics, probably as a result of coming from a merchant family. The unfortunate aspect of this was that his instructors gave him extra logistics exercises, testing him to see just how good he was. That was the Azdhag way: push, test, probe, always looking for a weakness.
Fortunately for him, the next day the cadets were granted a half-day free. “Pack your kit,” they were informed. “You’re going into the field with Third and Fifth Company.”
“I wonder how we’re traveling,” Greyslee pondered as they polished their harnesses and buckles that afternoon.
“Probably march there,” Naeka sighed, eliciting a unison groan from the eighteen remaining cadets.
Skinny Charsii set aside his gleaming carry harness and picked up one of the armored gauntlets the cadets had just been issued. As he carefully rubbed polish into the flexible metal scales, he ventured, “Maybe we’ll get to ride in half-hovers.”
“That would be fun,” someone said from down the row.
“Only if the air is smooth,” burly Di-sor stated firmly. He was Lord Daesart’s third son and had done a lot more things than most of the cadets had. Saetee had been surprised how few nobles were in the Defender cadets, but Di-sor had explained that first, the Imperials were more prestigious and second, they were between batches. “We’re the tail of this generation,” whatever that meant. Saetee knew buying and selling, not demographics, but acted as if the heavy reptile’s words made perfect sense. Saetee envied Di-sor’s muscles and size: unarmed combat and edged weapons drills came easily because he’d been trained since he could walk, while eating more meat while still a junior gave him his size. “Southwind produces the best shootee and cheesali in the Empire,” he’d bragged one night.