The Dragon War Page 25

  Azor used this opportunity to jump on top of the beast’s lowered neck, exposed now when it let its anger effect its decision making. With one fell blow that only the Northman could perform the blade bit deep into the creature’s neck between two scales and sliced it nearly in half severing its spinal cord. The beast’s head fell, along with its body, dead in front of them.

  “Damien, check on Dour,” Zokar ordered, taking a moment to look around and assess their situation. Damien nodded and ran off to find and tend to his friend.

  The clang of fighting was still all around them but nothing close enough to warrant panic. “Where are we?” Alyssa asked again.

  “I recognize this place,” Diamedes said, stepping around the great, dead beast and looking back behind them at where they had come from. “This was the Temple of Astor in Utandra. We are in Ulatha.”

  “What happened to it?” Alyssa asked. “It looks like it has been knocked down.”

  “All except the inner sanctum,” Diamedes noted. “Those places of worship seem to have protective powers over them that ensure their survival.”

  “Well the rest of Utandra didn’t seem to fare well,” Zokar noted, walking into what looked to be rubble in a street as buildings all around them were basically destroyed.

  “We should check on Dour,” Diamedes said looking around for the small cleric.

  “No need,” Damien said, bringing the small cleric around a rubble pile from their right with one arm tucked under Dour’s shoulder. “He’s banged up but alive.”

  “That’s a relief,” Alyssa said. “We have no one to heal him if he’s incapacitated.”

  “I’m alright lassie,” Dour said. “Don’t you fret none.”

  “Anything broken?” Diamedes asked. “Do you need a talaman?”

  “Save it for something more serious,” Dour answered. “Though I don’t recommend flying over this stone heap, the landing is rather rough.”

  Screams of men dying got their attention and the roar of something large dying did the same. “What now?” Azor asked. “Do we simply seek out the demons and slay them?”

  “No,” Diamedes answered. “We find the Duke of Ulatha himself first. He’ll know what we need to do.”

  “You did it, my liege!”

  Duke Uthor Tors wiped the sweat from his brow as he left his sword standing upright in the dragon’s neck and turned to face the speaker. It was early in the season, but the heat from the many fires all around him made the entire area hot, even while small snowflakes floated down to melt and then fizzle to steam as they contacted the greedy hot flames that consumed the city.

  “Indeed,” Duke Uthor said as he looked around at the dozens of bodies that were dead, many charred into a morass of unrecognizable destruction all around the huge corpse of the red dragon that he had just slain. “It was not by my hand alone that ended this plague, but by the many hands of our people, Gorstag.”

  Gorstag sheathed his own sword and looked around at the massive destruction around him. “Agreed, sire, but that was still a mighty stroke to finish the task.”

  “What of the Kesh wizards?”

  “Dead,” he said, pointing to the ruined city gate that was even now still burning. “The wizard and his apprentice perished in the beast’s second pass, sire and I have other news.”

  “Damn it!” Duke Uthor cursed as he reached again for his blade and tried to pull it free from the dead dragon’s neck. “Those Kesh will be the end of us . . . the end, even, of Agon!” With some great effort and a well-placed boot to the neck, the blade finally came free, and a molten red liquid spilled from the massive wound, sizzling on the ground as it cooled.

  Gorstag looked around before grabbing his tattered cloak and ripping a long piece of it and offering it to his liege. “That makes two drakes by your hand and my count, my lord.”

  Uthor took the cloth and wiped his blade as best he could, as the material suddenly ignited and started to burn. “Once there was a time when the term Dragon Slayer would have meant much, but not today and not after this last year,” he said, gingerly sheathing his two-handed sword, hoping his leather sheath would not ignite as well from the dragon blood residue.

  “This makes three towns and, of course, our beloved capital, Duke Uthor. We have lost the granaries, and most of our livestock have perished as well.”

  “Come, walk with me,” Uthor said as he took Gorstag by the arm and led him around the dead dragon as he walked toward his burning castle. “Our people, have they reached the caves?”

  Gorstag nodded while stepping over several corpses of what was once his war lord’s personal honor guard. “I received word just before the dragon arrived, but you had commenced with the defense of our city, and I could not reach you till after you slayed the beast.”

  “Well, that at least is a relief, though I fear we number too few already. The damage has been done, and little food to feed few people will be the least of our worries. The real test will soon come, and we have all but lost our great fortresses and citadels. How we are to survive the passing of Dor Akun is beyond me.”

  The two men scrambled up the rubble of the castle wall where once a great gate stood guarded by two large stone towers. Both were now cast down in ruin, and their debris still stood over twenty feet in height. “No! My lord, your tower is also destroyed.”

  “It matters not,” Uthor said. “You said earlier you had news for me?”

  “Yes,” Gorstag said. “The historian, Diamedes, and a handful of his protectors somehow managed to pass the Kesh lines and enter our city. They are waiting for you near the old Astor Temple.”

  “Good,” Uthor said, hope coming across his face for the first time in many weeks. “Bring me the historian, Osric Moross, and call the Arnen. There is only one thing left to do.”

  “What, my lord?” Gorstag asked.

  Uthor nodded, looking at the destruction around him and the large black void of the Akun planet that loomed in the sky, blotting out over half of it. Soon it would align with Agon, and darkness would come over them. “We should have listened to Diamedes. There may still be time to save our planet and to save our people.”

  “How?” Gorstag asked, frustration again in his voice.

  Uthor never took his eyes off the planet Akun when he spoke. “We travel through the portal to the dragon’s home world, and we close the gate from their side.”

  “Is that possible?” his champion and aide asked, looking into the sky at the huge black circular shape of death itself.

  “I pray for our sakes that it is.” Uthor stared at Akun.

  Death was coming.

  “Come with me,” a nobleman said turning to walk away from them with his escorts, a pair of large, plate armored fighters with long swords.

  “I guess this is it,” Dour said, motioning with a hand to invite Diamedes to follow first.

  Diamedes accepted the gesture and followed the nobleman who had told them to wait at the temple when they first encountered him fighting a group of Kesh nearby. They had watched as the attack faded and several dragons flew away but not out of sight. They could be seen far away circling in the air, far to the north.

  The nobleman and his guards marched a quick pace despite having recently exerted themselves physically in combat. If there was one thing about the Duchy of Ulatha it was the fitness and discipline of its military. It was a force to always be reckoned with. In due time they reached the rubble remains of the main castle and Diamedes gasped hardly recognizing it. A man in plate mail armor came across the top of the debris and welcomed them. “Diamedes, old friend, good to see you in such a time of darkness. We had given up hope.”

  The man embraced Diamedes having to bend over slightly in order to reach him. Diamedes patted the back of the man and said, “Ouch, that steel is hard.”

  The other man pulled back but grasped Diamedes by his arms. “Where have you been?” The arrival of over a hundred heavily armed troops cresting the same mound of rubble was not lost on the group.<
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  “That is a long story,” Diamedes began. “Time is short, and do you want a full reckoning out here amidst the destruction of your realm and in front of your troops?”

  The man shook his head, “I guess not. Forgive me, where are my manners? I am Uthor, Duke of Ulatha and your companions are?”

  Uthor had stated his name and title for the benefit of Diamedes’ companions. Diamedes answered for them, “These are the people who have looked after and protected me the past few weeks. This is Zokar and Alyssa of Balaria. This fierce Northman is Azor, leader of the Skull Crusher Clan in the north and these other two gentlemen are…”

  Uthor noted their manner of dress and said, “Go on, there will be no judging here now.”

  Diamedes nodded and continued, “This is the Kesh wizard, Damien, and his friend, Dour of the Akun sect.”

  Murmurs were heard amongst many of the soldiers of Ulatha. Duke Uthor quieted them by saying loudly, “Kesh, Northman, and Balarians, you are most welcome here in my realm. I am grateful for your service in protecting our historian, Diamedes.”

  The relief was palpable and Diamedes tried to respond but Dour asked, “I thought you were the Royal Historian of Tyniria?”

  “I am,” Diamedes said.

  Duke Uthor added, “He will always be our Ulathan historian. The late king only had him on load from us.”

  “Then you know of his passing?” Diamedes asked.

  “Yes, only recently though.”

  Diamedes spoke quickly, “Do you have some place secure where we can discuss an urgent matter with you?”

  “Yes,” Uthor said. “My tower has fallen but the Towers of the Queen and Prince still stand. We will go there.”

  “Fine,” Diamedes said. “Lead the way.”

  Uthor nodded and then gave orders for the defense of the city, what was left of it. The officers shouted and relayed those commands, and everyone made way for their Duke and the party of questors that had recently arrived.

  The trip was only five minutes across ruble and avoiding the many bodies of Kesh soldiers and Ulathan defender that had fallen in battle. The troops started to tend to their wounded and dead as they passed, and the smoke and fires of the attack raged on.

  Once they reached the Prince’s Tower the door was held open for them by sentries and then they met on the first floor in what looked to be a secondary hearing hall. Uthor requested chairs and they pulled a table from the side wall and sat in the middle. Several nobles and their wives filed in and military officers of all types were present as well. Once seated Uthor asked, “Is this sufficient?”

  “This will do,” Diamedes said.

  “Gorstag,” Uthor commanded his aide, “Bring drink and food for our guests.”

  “That is much appreciated,” Diamedes said, trying to get through the formalities. “How is your wife and child?”

  The room went silent and Uthor’s face became grim. “You have been gone a long time, my friend. My family is dead.”

  Chapter 20

  Final Plans

  The mood in the room was grim and the guests sat in silence until their cups were filled with drink and plates of cheese, bread, and dried meat was brought to them. Diamedes finally spoke before partaking, “My deepest apologies, sire. I had no idea.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Uthor said. “Please, eat and drink or I will be offended.”

  The group started to eat when Diamedes asked, “How long ago?”

  “A fortnight now is it, Gorstag?” Uthor asked his aide.

  “Yes sire,” the man said, bowing slightly, “Tomorrow will be a fortnight.”

  “Do not fret,” Uthor said. “We fare better than the king.”

  “I heard,” Diamedes said, taking a small bite of a cheese cube that tasted slightly stale.

  Uthor shifted in his chair and said, “The insufferable Kesh would have killed his sons too, but the princes started bickering immediately and Tyniria fell apart under the assault of dragon and wizard with no real leadership.”

  “Unbelievable,” Alyssa said, joining the conversation and then holding a hand to her mouth as if realizing that perhaps she shouldn’t intervene in their conversation.

  Duke Uthor raised a hand to allay her fears, “Please, feel free to speak your mind. I welcome all thoughts on the matter. Do you know what the Kesh jokingly refer to Tyniria as now?”

  The group shook their heads and Diamedes said, “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “They call it Rockton,” Uthor said. “They say the capital was torn apart brick by brick and stone by stone until only rocks remain. Can you imagine?”

  A new voice joined the conversation, “I can,” Damien said.

  Uthor looked at the man, “Why would he do such a thing?”

  “Power,” Damien replied. “The High Mage will not stop until he possesses the one artifact of the arcane that will give him ultimate power not only of Agon and its inhabitants, but the creatures from Akun.”

  “So you know about the dragon home world now and the magical portal they use to transit between their world and ours?” Uthor asked.

  “We do,” Damien said. “The question is how did you learn of it and the gateway?”

  “Hubris,” Uthor said, finally grabbing three cubes of cheese and stuffing them in his mouth. He stood up and put his arms out while a pair of servants assisted in removing his breast plate which didn’t look too comfortable on him at a table.

  “I don’t follow?” Zokar asked, also joining the conversation.

  When the duke had finished, he said down and answered, “The High Mage of Kesh told me himself the day before yesterday.”

  “Wait a moment,” Diamedes said. “You talked to the High Mage and he casually informed you of this gateway between our worlds?”

  “Not only that,” Uthor said, “but he also instructed me to stay in Utandra and withdraw my raiding parties from the countryside until the transit has completed.”

  “Preposterous,” Diamedes said.

  “Exactly,” Duke Uthor agreed. “He went on to say that any interference on our part would result in the destruction of our world from the dragons.”

  “A threat to invoke compliance,” Damien said.

  “Well, I intend to interfere to a great degree and hopefully bring him great sorrow in the process.” Uthor grabbed a cup and drank from it.

  “Do you know where the gateway will open?” Diamedes asked.

  “Not exactly,” Uthor said, “however, he has the bulk of his force at the old keep on the trade road east of the Gregus River. You know the place.”

  “Yes I do,” Diamedes said. “We were told it would be in the northern part of the Earlstyne Forest and my research confirms this.”

  “When?” Uthor asked.

  “At the perfect alignment,” Diamedes said.

  “This should be when Agon and Akun align with the sun, correct?” Uthor asked.

  “Yes,” Diamedes said, “but also when Tira and Sara align at the same time. That is the key part that continued to go missing from most of our history.”

  “Part?” Dour exclaimed, “Most heretics here had no idea that the Father would arrive and come this close much less understand anything about the twin sisters.”

  Uthor nodded, “It’s almost complete. We can say everyone from your party has engaged in conversation as soon as we can get the Northman to speak. What was his name again?”

  Azor said his name, “Azor.”

  “There, done.” Uthor smiled. “Diamedes, tell me more about the moons. They rise and set each night so how is it possible for them to align during the day?”

  All eyes turned to the historian with looks that indicated that this was a very interesting question. Diamedes shifted uncomfortably in his chair and lowered his voice, “Is this normal to be eating and drinking in front of your citizens when we are seated, and they are standing? I thought we’d have a more informal meeting than this.”

  Uthor looked around then spoke loud enough for all to h
ear, “My apologies old friend, but what you have to say is most important and the best way for my trusted advisors, military officers, chief counsels, and most trusted allied nobles, is to have them hear the truth directly from you. I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable. Besides, we don’t have enough chairs and tables for everyone, and we actually ate only an hour before the attack commences. No one else is hungry.”

  “He’s saying he’s doing this only to be polite,” Dour said looking directly at Diamedes.

  Diamedes nodded his head, “I appreciate the hospitality. For everyone’s benefit, I’ll speak louder.”

  “Please do,” Uthor said.

  “The moons have what’s called an orbit in scientific terms—”

  “What’s an orbit?” someone asked from the side.

  Another voice spoke up, “Is that a scientific term?”

  Diamedes cleared his throat and took a long swig of his drink before answering, “Yes, it’s a scientific term and it means that our world revolves around the sun. This revolving is called an orbit. Agon orbits the sun.”

  Nods of approval at his explanation and Uthor said politely, “Go on.”

  Diamedes continued, “Akun also orbits the sun but it does so only once every two hundred years. Agon orbits once a year.”

  “That makes sense,” a noble man said loudly.

  “The twin sisters,” Diamedes said referring to their moons, “Tira and Sara, orbit our planet once a day. However, and this is the key that was missing from my research until just recently. When they orbit it is called an eccentric orbit.”

  “Does that mean crazy?” someone asked.

  Diamedes nodded, “It means the orbit is not perfectly circular. It’s more like an egg shape. Let me show you. My Lord, can you stand for a moment?”

  Uthor looked at Diamedes and laughed. “Please, Diamedes. You are an old friend, but I’ll pass this time on being a prop for your school lesson.”