Dragons Unremembered

by David A Wimsett

  “I swear it Etera, in the names of all the dragons.”

  Seven surviving baronesses and barons gathered around them. Colonel Herrik and less than four hundred Carandir troops followed. Etera looked up. “Dek is now the sole regent. Follow him. My dying wish is for western and eastern houses to live together in peace.”

  Each of them swore that it would be so.

  Etera took Dek’s hand. “Forgive me, Dek.” His voice faltered and he died.

  Dek made the sign of the covenant. “All debts are forgiven, old friend.”

  One of Dek’s officers rode up. “What has stopped the mist, My Lord?”

  Dek got to his feet. “Who can say? Perhaps it cannot leave the presence of he who calls it.”

  “Then let us mount a counterattack”

  “No. This is a thing beyond our power to fight. We must regroup and seek aid in combating such sorcery. There are other Kyar in the lands. We will pull back to the western forests beyond the Dragons’ Mound.” He turned and addressed all of the surviving barons and troops. “Send terecs to your strongholds. All families and servants are to mount and ride from Carandir. Have them find sanctuary anywhere but Karaken.” He prayed that Jea would be able to reach safety in the eastern city-states where they still had strong family ties.

  “Command your troops to reach the Westford valley by the swiftest means. We are defeated here. Still, there is hope. Prince Ryckair lives. In him is the power of the dragons. We will seek for him wherever he may be. In the meantime, we will harass the Barasha and those who align themselves with these sorcerers with all who remain loyal to the Crown, no matter what barony they come from. Let there be only one allegiance, Carandir.” At this, they all cheered.

  Dek stared at the palace. Mirjel was still inside, lost beyond his grasp. "If I cannot save you, my daughter, I will avenge you," he said quietly, then turned his horse and rode West.

  The demon mist dissipated a span after Dek departed. The barons who had not escaped were held in the north tower. The servants’ quarters and the parade ground were deserted. Telasec checked for any remaining guards, then led courtiers, bureaucrats, Daro and servants from the south tower through the parade grounds and out across the bridge.

  They made their way down toward the north gates of Meth. Telasec saw men, women and children weep as they trudged on. They did not know where they were going, only that they must flee a danger none of them understood. At a point, everyone stopped as though there was no will left to go on. They looked to Telasec. She stared back into their eyes.

  “I know you’re all scared. I am too. It might seem there is no hope, and little that can be done other than to sit down and wait for the end. Many people would do just that.

  “But, we are Carandirian. We are the descendants of Avar’s people. Our ancestors once faced the evil dragon and all his demons.

  “There are back alleys of the Old City, secret rooms and underground tunnels. That’s where we’ll hide to be close at hand when Prince Ryckair returns. And return he will. So come, all of you. There’s work to do and not a moment to spare for tears.”

  Orane finished the last incantation of a locking spell on the heavy metal door leading from the palace to the Kyar’s vaults.

  “Will it hold against the sorcerers?” asked a young, dark skinned Kyar.

  “No more than a few spans, Suel. That will be time enough.”

  They walked back to the central library where Kyar scholars loaded the most important books and scrolls into baskets and carried them through one of the secret doors leading to the hidden palace within the outer palace walls that Ryckair had discovered.

  Pent, now a senior Kyar, bowed. “Master. The last of the manuscripts have been moved behind the secret door. We are ready to seal it.”

  “Excellent.”

  “But, Master Orane,” said Suel. “If we cannot keep the vault door from being broken down, how can we manage to protect the secret entrance?”

  “By convincing the Barasha that we have escaped with the books and allowing them to inspect the cleared out vaults.”

  Suel picked up a discarded scroll, one of many. “I thought you didn’t want the Barasha to get these.”

  “They are copies of minor magic and histories that can be of no use to them,” said Pent. “We must make the ruse seem real.”

  The last of the Kyar passed through the secret door and it was closed. Orane placed his hands against the wall and wove a spell through it. “There. The Barasha will have to probe very hard to detect this door.”

  Pent said, “Master, Narech Yetig has replaced the guards who died in the demon attack at the palace gate.”

  “Then our witnesses are in place We are ready.”

  Unlike the Barasha, the Kyar and the Daro were able to perform some true magic without calling upon demons. These skills had been taught to them by the wizards to better confront the servants of Baras. Still, the spells they worked were no more than the musings of children compared to the power once possessed by the wizards.

  Orane sat on the stone floor with an open book in his lap and chanted in a low voice. The words droned on for a tespan before Suel saw the air above the book glow with a blue light. Orane’s voice rose in pitch and tempo. The glow increased until it became brilliantly white. All the Kyar raised their hands over their heads and slapped them together in unison.

  The room seemed to be thrown into darkness until their eyes adjusted to the light of the oil lamps. Orane sat the book down. “It is done.”

  Outside, the guards at the gate heard horses running and saw eleven wagons filled with Kyar and books barreling down upon them. The captain at the gate pulled a pin to drop the portcullis. It fell a hand’s width, then froze in place. Guards fired arrows that struck the wagons but failed to hit any of the Kyar. The wagons charged over the bridge and onto the plain. Soldiers mounted horses to give chase. Before they reached the gate, the portcullis freed itself and crashed down, blocking their way. The wagons with the Kyar disappeared into the western forest.

  A report of the Kyar’s escape was dispatched to Reshna. Soldiers picked up the arrows that had missed their mark. Had any of them stopped to count those shafts, they would have discovered that the number recovered matched exactly the number fired, for the arrows had passed unhindered through the phantom images of fleeing Kyar created by Orane’s spell.

  Reshna returned to the throne room. The key had vanished. The crown, tauntingly inaccessible, remained in its crystal sphere.

  Craya had been taken to his chambers and the wound on his hand treated by one of the Daro healers who had not been able to escape the palace. Reshna gave the healers’ comings and goings no more notice than that of the kitchen staff. Though the power of the Daro mistresses came from the wizards, it was a power to heal and mend. The Barasha measured all things by the power of force alone.

  The Kyar, however, he feared. Their magic surpassed his own unless he called upon the power of a demon. He had broken the holding spell on the doors to the vaults and inspected the scrolls strewn about the floors. But, he looked no further, for Orane’s ruse had succeeded and Reshna was convinced the Kyar had escaped the palace.

  Dark clouds blew across the sun, throwing the hall into shadow. Reshna stared at the crown. If Ryckair was captured again the ritual sacrifice could still be performed.

  First, the vanished key had to be found. As heir to the crown, he knew it would call Ryckair. If the Barasha found the prince he would lead them to it and they could kill him in the ceremony to make Craya the heir. The plan could fail in so many ways. Craya could father a child with any woman, but that would take decades and Ryckair could father a child himself who would then become his heir, nullifying any issue of Craya.

  But, there was another road.

  A link existed between the houses of Avar and Rascalla that none but the Barasha knew of. Through research and interviews with demons, Reshna learned that when Avar fled in exile to the eastern city of Au, his aunt married a man whose de
scendant later formed the house of Rascalla. This made Mirjel and Craya very distant cousins. A child from their union would change the succession. The babe would be able to take the key before the age of twenty. The birth would nullify Ryckair as the heir and transfer it to the infant. There would be no need to hunt or kill Ryckair. He would no longer matter. The Barasha would raise the child as their own and their master would be released.

  Barasha priests escorted Gilyon, Refran, Luja and Womd into the hall. The sorcerer studied them. “I am Reshna, Lord High Priest of the servants of Baras. Why did you take up arms against Baron Dek.”

  The barons looked at each other. Womd spoke. “We support Prince Craya who will put an end the four eastern houses.”

  Reshna said, “You have seen the demon. Do you not fear me?”

  Luja stepped forward. She said, “We see your great power and respect you. Are our goals for Prince Craya not the same as yours?”

  Refran said, “We pledge to support you in making prince Craya king.”

  Reshna nodded his head. “You will be rewarded for our support. Each of you will add one eastern barony to your own.” He waved his hand and the Barasha escorted the three barons from the hall.

  Yetig entered and bowed. The sorcerer said, “The ceremony was not completed. Where is the ship?”

  “The Star Fire is overdue, Lord. Whatever happened, they did not have time to send a terec. A second ship was dispatched but no wreckage has been found.”

  Reshna took powder from a pouch and blew it on the floor where the demon had appeared. He studied it for a moment. “The prince may have drowned before Petstra could cast the spell, but I do not think so. It is more likely that he escaped the ship’s fate and made his way to land. Mount a search of the south and north lands with all available resources.”

  “Lord Reshna. No Carandirian has stepped on the north continent in centuries. We have no maps or guides.”

  “Find Baroness Quib.”

  At first, Ryckair was afraid he would drown when the membrane encased him. He was convinced it would pop as the giant sea snakes pulled his bubble through a labyrinth of underwater tunnels. The scaly beasts sported luminescent nodules on their foreheads that gave off faint light. This allowed Ryckair to make out some features of the water caves. He realized that the bubbles had to be made of gill weed, a peculiar plant that grew only in the deepest part of the great river. A book had described how the transparent membrane that was wrapped around its seed casings allowed oxygen in and spent air to flow out. According to the writing of an unknown Kyar, a person could breathe indefinitely inside one of the envelopes.

  Ryckair’s bubble, along with five others encasing just men including Batu, were pulled off on a side tunnel while the others continued on ahead. They all seemed to be woman sailors from the Star Fire.

  The snakes stopped and released the bubbles. They floated up and broke the surface of a pond located in an air filled cave deep beneath the river. The Sarte guided their snakes as they pushed the bubbles toward one side. Ryckair looked down into the water to see that they were now positioned over a ledge that sloped down like a rock beach. It rose out up to a narrow strip of dry rock that ended in rough walls with a single tunnel opening in one.

  The spheres bobbed on the water as the ropes were untied. A Sarte rider poured green fluid over the bubbles and they began to disintegrate. Ryckair felt wetness on his legs. He caught a piece of the dissolving plant between his toes and swished it in the water to wash away the fluid.

  Dim light grew from the opening. Ryckair covered his eyes, for even this feeble glow felt intense after the dark tunnels they had been dragged through.

  Two men with muscular physiques walked out of the rough archway. One carried a basket containing a glow root, another strange plant from the underwater world that Ryckair had read about. It gave off luminance when exposed to air. The man had craggy lines in his face. His head was covered in hair streaked with gray. He wore a tattered cloak that appeared to be a badge of office. The other man’s body was covered in filthy rags. He brandished a metal pick as though it were a ceremonial sword. Both men had dirty, tangled beards.

  The fabric of the bubbles had all dissolved except for the small swatch Ryckair had managed to save. The captives stood on the rock ledge of the lagoon. The Sarte rider turned their snakes and disappeared beneath the water.

  The man with the lantern stepped forward. “I am Lekto, chief miner. I assign all work and award all favors. You are now miners. You will work from the time you wake until the time I call for sleep. You will eat two meals a day. If you fail to work hard enough you will be whipped. If you fail a second time you will not eat for a day. Those who fail a third time are sealed within an abandoned tunnel.”

  The chief miner raised the basket holding the glow root and indicated for the new arrivals to walk through the passage. The guard stepped forward to give authority to the command.

  They filed into a larger cavern. Cold light from glow roots filtered in as two cooks prepared a meal. At least fifty men sat on stones and held metal cups in their hands. They came from many races. All wore mere scraps of clothing. The stench of human bodies was intense.

  To one side a short tunnel led to a smaller cavern with piles of ratty bedding. Prominent in the center of the large cavern was a rock platform. The floor was smooth, though not level. Stalactites hung from above.

  The chief miner climbed up on the platform. “Six more miners have arrived. During the next shift the Sarte will deliver more charcoal fuel and food to the cooks. Eat quickly.”

  The cooks handed cups to the six arrivals and the men lined up for food. The fare consisted of coarse brown bread with thick crusts, fish stew and mushrooms. Batu and Ryckair found a rock to sit on. They tried to talks to other men, but they were ignored.

  When they were finished, Lekto stood back on the platform. “We will work the old tunnel today. The Sarte demand copper.”

  A voice came from the crowd. “There is no copper in the old tunnel. We have been working it for ten shifts and found almost nothing.”

  “Do You challenge me?”

  “Where is the copper?”

  “It is there. We have pulled much from there. The Sarte have rewarded us with extra food and spices and twice they brought ale.”

  “Now they cut the rations because we do not deliver. We must work the tunnel near the fissure.”

  “I am chief miner.”

  A man with dark skin stepped forward. He brandished an obsidian knife as he leapt onto the platform. He was muscular, as were all the miners, and younger than Lekto. “I, Theb, challenge.”

  The man with the pick axe pushed the crown back. Lekto pulled an obsidian knife from within his tattered shirt. The two men crouched and circled each other. The crowd watched in silence. Theb fainted a thrust but Lekto ignored it. The chief miner took a swipe as Theb jumped back. The two men charged each other. Theb slashed Lekto’s knife arm but the chief miner fought on. He gashed Theb across the cheek. Blood flowed onto the stone.

  Neither man gave ground. Theb lunged for Lekto’s belly. The chief miner grabbed Theb’s wrist with a powerful grip and twisted. Theb held fast to his knife. The challenger bashed his head into Lekto’s. The chief miner stumbled back. Theb sprang forward and knocked Lekto down.

  Ryckair expected the chief miner to regain his feet and fight on. Instead, the man let his arms fall to the platform as he dropped his knife. Theb jumped on top of him and brought his knife to Lekto’s chest. The chief miner laid his head back and offered no resistance. Almost inaudibly, Ryckair heard him say, “Free.”

  Theb pushed the knife deep into the chief miner’s heart. Lekto gave a shutter before his body relaxed into death.

  Theb took the tattered cloak and fastened it around himself. “I, Theb, am chief miner. We will work the tunnel near the fissure.

  The Stronghold of Rascalla stood on a plain of rolling grass and farmlands with the jagged Uta Mountain to the north. The peaks extended east nearly
to the swamplands less than a day’s ride and turned sharply to the north to skirt them.

  The grounds were walled with gates to the east and west. Many buildings and a large tower keep were set within. Aqueducts brought water from the mountains that sustained them needs, including a pleasant garden constructed within the walls with many flowers, bushes and trees.

  Dek’s terec landed on a bench in the garden where Baroness Jea sat. She smiled, thinking the message would be good news about the coronation and her daughter. Instead, her mouth gaped and her hands shook with the story of the Barasha and the Demon.

  “Flee at once,” said Dek’s thoughts. “Colonel Herrik has sent a terec to alert the garrison. They will evacuate Desan. Find refuge in Au. Try to raise their help in confronting the Barasha.”

  Jea stood slowly. “Kanna.”

  The steward ran to her side and bowed. “Baroness.”

  “Gather everyone inside and outside the walls. We must flee to Au. Your master has been right all these years. The Barasha have risen.

  There was much complaining amongst the courtiers. Some gathered trunks of cloths and chests of gold and jewels. Kanna told them to leave all their finery and to only sew a few jewels in their cloths.

  Jea shouted, “Quiet, everyone. A danger approaches that will kill us all. We may never return here if we even survive. Sorcerers are bringing demons and death. Food has been packed for a journey to Au where all of us have family. Everything else is forfeit. Prepare to leave within three spans.”

  The courtiers stood silent. Many wept. Others wrung their hands.

  Jea softened her tone. “Terrible things have come upon us. Each of you have the strength of our ancestors who first settled this land. We will survive.”

  In the Carandir garrison, Colonel Herrik’s terec landed next to Captain Amar. He called the troops together and repeated the message. Each soldier stood unflinchingly. Amar scanned the assemblage. The finest women and men he had ever commanded. He turned to a young woman. “Lieutenant Bisa, lead the force into Desan and take control of the city in the name of the Crown. Evacuate the civilians south along the swamps and lead them to one of the far eastern nations. I have been ordered to take troops and personally escort Baroness Jea.”