Were of the Drakon

by B Cameron Lee

  “Archers. Aim for the cavalry,” the Duke roared and arrows sheeted toward those on horseback. Cringle had to take his attention from the main mass of the Duke’s soldiers to deal with the arrows. As he did, the Duke’s front line charged and smashed into the well drilled forces of Boronia. The shield wall held and the bristling spears which protruded from behind it took their toll. Cringle’s attention was back on the fighting and he sent a mighty wind into the ranks of the Duke’s soldiers behind those actually engaged in the conflict. He concentrated on a narrow front, placing far more force behind the spell and scattered the Duke’s soldiers like ninepins. The fighting front line suddenly became aware those behind them were no longer standing and fell back, separating from the forces of Boronia.

  On a loud command, the front ranks of Georgio’s forces took one pace forward and held the shield line. The Duke was livid, things weren’t going his way.

  “Archers. Target the man on that flying carpet. Keep firing at him until told otherwise.”

  Immediately arrows started flying toward Cringle. He saw them coming but there were so many of them he had to use a shield of air to protect himself. Once again this took some of his attention off the enemy soldiers below, who were now able to climb dazedly back to their feet. The Duke’s soldiers well knew they had to perform to the best of their ability. There was more danger from the Duke than the enemy. At least the enemy would show some mercy. The Duke had none.

  Yletta hated what she saw. Soldiers dying. These were men with families, children, loved ones. No one would win this conflict; the sides were too evenly matched. She saw her son, Cringle, trying to keep the two forces apart with his magic but he was sorely pressed and he had no help. It was inevitable the fighting would soon start in earnest and the death toll would rise. The morning wore on and now the front ranks of the armies were sporadically engaging. They were too spread out for Cringle to use his magic everywhere. He’d flown out of arrow range now but he was only one person. The wounded were being taken to the back of the lines and the dying were underfoot as the clashes increased in frequency and ferocity. It looked like it was going to be a dismal day in the history of the two countries when suddenly there was a roar from the south.

  Heads swivelled and all eyes looked up to see a great golden drakon flying in front of a smaller golden drakon and a black, both with passengers. Behind them, flying in a huge wedge, was over a hundred bronze drakons, most with a strange, scaled creature perched on its back, each one clutching a stabbing spear. They flew over and circled until all the drakons were hovering over the forces of Boronia. The armies fell apart, the Duke’s forces retreating from under the huge golden drakon who hovered above the growing space between the two armies.

  There appeared to be no command given but line after line of bronzes swooped down and the creatures on their backs leapt off them to stand in a line in front of the army of Boronia, facing the Duke’s men. Each held its spear raised in a menacing pose.

  The Duke was ashen. The Spawn, arraigned against him. Fighters with strength and endurance. Something snapped. He would throw all his men at them at once. They could still win. He would not surrender.

  “Sound the attack! Throw every man into the battle. Do it now.”

  Yletta had had enough. Brother or no it was time to act. She delivered a stunning blow to the guard on her left and before her other guard had a chance to react, she spun and dropped him with a single punch. The Duke half turned into a powerful roundhouse kick which caught him flush on the side of the head. He fell to the flagstones, senseless. Yletta turned to the stunned nobles.

  “Anyone want to join him? Thought not. I’m taking command here. Sound the retreat. Get that army back inside the walls before anyone further gets hurt. You,” she pointed at one of the nobles. “Get the Duke tied up and down to the dungeons right now. I’ve had enough of his insanity.”

  Everyone stood looking at her, slack mouthed. Yletta shook her head in disgust. Petty nobles, spineless.

  “MOVE!”

  It was as if a spell had been broken, bugles sounded, cord appeared and the Duke’s hands were bound as he started to come around. He was helped to his feet and led off as Melintana’s army started to file back through the gates of the city. The Spawn lowered their spears but stood their ground as the forces of Boronia relaxed, the men in the rear ranks starting to break formation as they were stood down. Soon there was enough space for the drakons to land and the hive grouped around their queens. Cringle warily flew over the city on his carpet and saw his mother giving orders. He landed and went to her.

  “I forgot you were once a Queen.”

  “Quite a while ago son but these petty nobles are the same all over. They’ve never been tried. All they know is court, sport and hunting. Could you tell King Georgio its time to make a Prince into a King and fetch young Lermond.”

  Cringle smiled as he regained his carpet.

  “My pleasure, Yletta.”

  By that afternoon things had calmed down. The latest recruits of Melintana’s army had been told to leave their weapons and go home, their pay for the short campaign would come later. The standing army were tasked with collecting the weapons and stacking spears, swords and shields outside the armoury ready to be stored away again. King Georgio had brought Prince Lermond and Kristen into the palace in his coach. The same palace the pair had escaped from well over two years before. Nothing had changed. The Prince was formally welcomed by Yletta as he stepped down and the gathered nobles bent the knee to him. Prince Lermond was going to be crowned that very afternoon and some order established in the kingdom of Melintana.

  Soon they were all gathered in the Great Hall, including Traginal who had only just managed to squeeze through the double doorway. Vistala stood proudly beside him as the ceremony progressed. Soon, Yletta, acting for her brother the Regent, placed the crown on Lermond’s head and proclaimed him King of Melintana. There was a rousing cheer from the nobles, at last they now had a King again and they could get back to the life of ease and leisure which they preferred.

  King Lermond stood and everyone fell silent.

  “My first act as King is to inform you that I’m taking Kristen as my wife, your future Queen.”

  The announcement was met by a stunned silence.

  There was a discreet cough at his elbow and there stood the Chamberlain who whispered to him.

  “Melintana Law forbids royalty to marry a commoner Sire.”

  King Lermond looked up and surveyed the room as he thought things out. He was now king. So.

  “Correction. My first act as King is to strip Duke Erkhart of all lands and titles. They will be bestowed on Karl, Kristen’s brother, as a reward for saving my life by securing my escape from the clutches of Duke Erkhart. Henceforth he will be known as Duke Karl.”

  There was a scattering of applause among those present. None knew Karl but if he’d saved the King’s life, he deserved his reward. However, King Lermond wasn’t finished.

  “My second act as King is to announce my marriage to Kristen, brother of Duke Karl who is now a noble in her own right.”

  There was a collective gasp at King Lermond’s audacity and the room broke into thunderous applause. It was well done and a popular move. Their King was a clever man, they would all do well under his rule.

  Next day, during the festivities, King Lermond went among his people in the city. He distributed alms to the poor and shook many hands. The populace was extremely happy the Duke was no longer in charge of Melintana. Prisoners, jailed for little reason were released and a decree made that there was to be no more tithes of maidens and never would be again.

  The army of Boronia, job done, gathered itself together and set off to return home. Cheering well-wishers lined the road out of the city. At its rear, behind the wagons bearing the wounded, walked a force of nearly one hundred Spawn. They would follow the army along the highway and well into Boronia. At the closest point to Skyring, where the new hive was to be established, Traginal
would direct them to the caverns by an overland route. Bethany was in charge of the Spawn and looking forward to seeing her parents again when the army passed through Bardton, although she was somewhat trepiditious at the meeting because of what she had become. Still, her parents were her parents and they were good people. They shouldn’t be repulsed or hold it against her, it was not her fault she was taken at tithe and turned into Spawn.

  Last to leave Conurbal was King Georgio. He was giving Septican a lift to Balfour’s Keep, a place where Septican felt he could live happily and stay in touch with Traginal. Vistala was going home too but Traginal was taking her back to Balfour’s Keep, the place where he had been turned from a little crippled boy into a drakon prince. Vistala knew Traginal would visit her there as often as he could and Septican had promised to show her magic. Home would be a good place to grow up until she was old enough to decide her own life.

  Cringle had promised to take Yletta back to Naejang in northern Cheshwon, as she missed the place and expressed a desire to live with Nyaka in the palace there, her home for almost twenty years. Cringle had thought to travel on and see Arwhon and Shiri. He tried to imagine Vehrin’del’s surprise when he drifted into the clearing of Al’hera in the Darkwood. After that he might even visit Cristal and give her all the news, see if he could find out what was happening with Kuiran and Raleen as he couldn’t fly far enough over the ocean to reach the island of Wyalonia.

  First though was the problem now before Cringle and Yletta. Rodaren Erkhart, Duke no longer and now a mere commoner, raging and slavering as he paced his cell. He made little or no sense, talking to unseen presences and whispering obscenities at the walls. The nobles wanted him dead. Final payment for all the wrongs he’d committed over the years and looking at him now, Cringle thought that would be a possible solution but Erkhart was his uncle, his mother’s only brother.

  “Is there anything you can think of?” Yletta asked him once again.

  Cringle had thought long and hard about what to do with his uncle and nothing sensible had come to mind. The man was deranged now and probably had no idea of the offences he’d committed. In fact probably had no idea of anything much at all. It was useless, his mind was broken.

  Mind was broken.

  Yes!

  “I’ve just had an idea. We could try it, there’s nothing to loose. Remember the Isle of Dreams where the cult of Batheda resides? I suggested to her and the head of her monks that a better way to recruit worshippers was to start fixing people whose minds are broken. I wonder if she could help Rodaren?”

  “Anything is worth a try Cringle. We’re completely out of options.”

  The very next day, Rodaren Erkhart was unceremoniously bound and gagged to silence his ravings and placed on a carpet between Cringle and Yletta and their saddlebags. Last goodbyes were made as they rose into the early morning sky. It took all day to fly him to the Isle of Dreams and it wasn’t until after dark that they stood in front of Batheda with a raving Rodaren between them. The hall was more packed than it had been and Batheda appeared far more substantial.

  “Ah, Cringle. I must thank you for your idea. Word seems to have spread and people come here willingly now. Once their brains are realigned, they often wish to stay. I feel stronger because of the extra worship they give.”

  “That’s excellent Batheda, I’m glad to have been of service. I’ve a favour to ask of you. This is my uncle. His brain has gone strange, could you please make him forget everything and turn him into one of your worshippers?”

  Batheda smiled down.

  “Is that all. Callan.”

  The head monk stepped forward, gripping his staff firmly in one hand. The other hand he placed on Erkhart’s head. Erkhart went rigid and his mouth moved soundlessly until just one word could be heard, repeated endlessly as a chant.

  “Batheda, Batheda, Batheda.”

  Callan stepped back, a smile on his face.

  “It’s done. He’s now one of Batheda’s. His mind will never be troubled again.”

  They untied the ropes that bound the once commanding Rodaren Erkhart and he slowly sagged to sit meekly on the nearest bench, his face blank as he silently mouthed Batheda’s name.

  As the sun rose the following morning, Cringle and Yletta flew away from the Isle of Dreams toward Lynbrook, on the first leg of their journey home.

  Epilogue

  All was well in the world and it was once more set back on a course leading toward good rather than evil. But always there’s a balance to maintain.

  Cristal stood looking at Belvedere’s harbour. She was worried about Captain Belmar, her betrothed, more than a month overdue now but that wasn’t why she’d come here. The calm water lapped against the sides of a single Drakon Reaver boat moored at the quay. It flew the Admiral’s pennant. Bare armed, scarred and tattooed Reavers could be seen relaxing on its deck, forbidden to leave the vessel by the Admiral. Feelings in Belvedere were still running high regarding Reavers and it wouldn’t take long for fighting to break out if the Reavers set foot ashore.

  In a strange twist of Fate, the Admiral had been ordered to Belvedere as a last resort, to act as an emissary and ask the Council of Ten for help. For the past six months the Reavers in Draakonia had been fighting a losing battle against the desert hordes emerging from the Imbril Wastes. The Admiral had pointed out that once Draakonia fell to the invasion, it would only be a matter of time before the Imbril Horde spread outward.

  Southland could be one of its next targets.

  Appendix.

  Melintana

  Capital Conurbal - Duke Rodaren Erkhart, Prince Lermond

  Kristen, Karl (her brother),

  Alesander the spy.

  Village of Bardton - Septican Mycindun, Traginal Mycindun

  (Trag), Trag’s friend Bethanty,

  Maestra Winholme. Rundle the mule.

  Boronia

  Capital Harrington - King Georgio, Sir William Vigtry,

  Earl Bentson

  Town of Wenstrom - Devlin Balfour (Wiley’s brother), his

  wife Anya, son Tarin and daughter

  Wendi. Vigano’s beau - Marista.

  Davo-lout in tavern.

  Port of Senmouth - on the River Sen.

  Balfour’s Keep - Wiley Balfour, his wife Malena, sons

  Vigano and Bustan, daughters Bromala

  and Vistala. Cinta the cook - her

  gardener husband Brant. Helmar at the

  barn. Gatekeeper – Bundy, sister in law

  Marni.

  Cheshwon

  Port of Sheskan on Namse - Port official – Weng

  Southern Capital:

  Mandoran – King Kenjida, half brother of Tarsega.

  Northern Capital:

  Naejang - Warlord ruler Furoshiko, his Shaman Geng,

  Cringle’s mother Yletta, his aunt Nyaka, her

  sons Chenko and Zoran and her Shaman

  - Zin.

  The Inland Sea

  The Isle of Dreams – Guardian Batheda, her head priest

  Callan plus assorted monks.

  Lynbrook to the west – Barron-Head of College of

  Mages, Farseer the mountain.

  The Drakons

  Zaldara (the hive queen), Serkahn her mate,

  Zirca (Zaldara’s daughter), Traginal.

  Head of the Spawn – First Bergit then Bethanty.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I came to writing late. No idea why, I guess I was too busy living a faster life when I was younger - not enough time to do everything. New skills are always fun to learn and writing is something which just happened to me. Maybe because I had a book inside bursting to get out - 'The Final Song.' Storytelling improves with practice. Not to say my earlier books are unreadable, they seem to be standing the test of time.

  I write as B. Cameron Lee because my first name is Bruce and I've been the butt of so many jokes for so many years. Imagine Googling the name Bruce Lee - I would be lost in there and so hard to find.

&nbs
p; I try to write across the lines dividing genres to tell stories which don't quite fit into handy slots. I experiment a little and try and make the tales unfold as if the reader were watching a movie. Some of my offerings are quite gritty while others are fantastical. This one is classical fantasy. The work involved with True Fire is rewarding, as the world I created comes together and I find myself in it, looking around a reality I can almost feel.

  Weird heh.

  Okay, in case you are thinking I sit around all day punching keys. Forget it. I have four guitars, none of which I play well but I can sure make noise. I ride a motorbike - had a 1200cc Harley (see the opening chapter of 'The Fold') but now have a Honda 250 Rally (small single cylinder copy of the Dakar Rally 450) so I can go off-road too. That's not all, I also have a small bus and a bike trailer so the Gypsy in me can take off on little adventures.

  Life is out there.

  Other Books by this author available from CreateSpace and Amazon and also on Amazon Kindle.

  The Final Song

  Rewind – the follow up to The Final Song

  Diary of a Serial Killer

  Diary of a Serial Killer 2 – Reece’s Revenge

  Electric Goanna Dreams

  The Femmebots Revolt

  The Fold

  True Fire Book 1 – The Ring of Truth

  True Fire Book 2 – The Fall of Belvedere

  True Fire Book 3 – The Q’Herindam