When Dragons Rule

The forest was silent once more and Zasiruht felt the presence of inner peace. Much had been accomplished and she heard the wind singing her name, calling her. The melody resonated through her, breaking the fibres that held her essence, the purpose releasing her soul and setting her free.

Zasiruht took out the Dagger of Sor and pushed it into the soil and walked into the thick woods of the forest, discarding her clothing along the way. Leaning naked against the Ruesal Tree, she closed her eyes and felt the warm breeze and remembered the journey home and with that, her essence departed with her last breath to be with the wind.

Several days later, Marsten reached his Mother's bedside. He had been home only a few minutes when Katajola came in with fresh water and linens.

"You're Mother is gravely ill. She has nightmares, hallucinations and sometimes vanishes without a trace. She's never gone long, only long enough for a dream perhaps; but, when she returns she has new imaginings. Except this!" Katajola raised Aaiyana's hand which bore the broom maiden's ring. "Do you know anything about this?" she asked.

"No, no I don't. Mother never married as far as I know and the last time I saw her, I was fifteen and on my way to take care of oxen in Gravelmore for the Winter with Pletch-As. My Birthday-of-Manhood came that following first of Spring, so I went to Hyde to register as required by law. I received my lot-in-life and went directly to the Badlands to perform my duties. That's the short version anyway."

Katajola suggested to Marsten that the ring was cursed. Marsten wasn't sure, he knew nothing of cursed rings. It was decided that the ring should be removed; at least as a test, and that it would perhaps yield additional clues upon inspection. Marsten finally agreed and removed the ring from his Mother's finger.

Marsten gently removed the ring and his Mother exhaled a final breathe, her body limp, her eyes vacant. He burst out in a scream so loud that every creature in the Eastermore forest would surely have heard it. With tears welling in his eyes, he kissed her forehead, pulled her eyelids down over her eyes, folded her hands in eternal prayer and covered her with a clean linen.

Marsten reigned in his emotions as best he could. Katajola cried, tried to sooth Marsten, then left them alone in the ramshackle hut. The next morning at sunrise, Aaiyana was buried.

'Twas a curse unto death - the vilest kind of curse. There's only one despicable enough to have made this curse - and all the Grimoirks knew who it was and so did Marsten. He had been told the stories of Pletch-As' vile and twisted scheme to win his Mother, how he had seduced her against her will, and held her captive until she gave up resisting. A dirty old man, nearly three times her age when Marsten was born. He broke her will but never completely. She would never have married him willingly. He must have placed this cursed ring upon her maiden-finger while she was incapacitated with illness. "That madman will die for this!" yelled Marsten.

Ham strung up the bacon on the tree. After smoking the entire hog over the coals, it was best left there to cool down. The men would be most pleased to pig out on Ham's smoked bacon. It was his specialty.

Ham was not very bright, but he was a very good cook. Teeth appointed him the duty of cooking all the meals for the camp. Everyone was very happy Ham was cooking for them and it boosted the men's morale. That was important and Teeth could relax a little knowing that the men's morale was high.

Narnook had heard of Ham's famous smoked bacon and felt strung out waiting for dinner. Narnook's stomach rumbled, he had to wait another hour before he could really pig out! Teeth promised Narnook a double portion.

Ham-Without Teeth stood near Ham and tried to look busy. He wanted a double portion too and as Ham was cutting up the smoked bacon, he reached in and stole a nice big bit.

Teeth saw what Ham-Without Teeth had done and shook his head and yelled out to the men washing up, preparing for dinner, "Ham-Without Teeth will be Ham-Without Ham now...because he has stolen an extra portion of Ham's famous smoked bacon!"

Ham-Without Teeth had to sit through the entire feast without Ham's smoked bacon, away from Teeth, Ham and Narnook.

Rodrig lost all sense of time while he was in the dungeons. Time was torture, because torture was Rodrig's only knowledge.

The young lord would come to Rodrig's cell and order the guards to perform whatever new tortures he had imagined

Rodrig did not care.

He closed his eyes and remembered Rosaaya, and remembered his childhood in Tristan, and would eventually pass into darkness.

Rodrig's broken and bloody body grew thin and weak, his hair became long and tangled, and yet he lived.

Rodrig did not care.

Finally, the lord entered Rodrig's cell, boasting that he had been raised to a full Lordship and of his new title of Lord Yshan. He told Rodrig that Lords had no time for torture. He joked with the guards that Rodrig's body would make fine fertilizer for the Badlands. They all laughed.

Rodrig did not care.

Rodrig opened his eyes. He was lying on a hard plank bed, under a rough-woven covering. He smelled something cooking, and heard someone moving about the room. He turned his head, but could only see the blurry shape of a man near the fire.

Rodrig surveyed himself and realized his hair had been completely shorn and his body scrubbed and bandaged. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

When next he awoke, he could see the daylight through the cracks in the walls. He tried to sit up but was too weak. He heard a jovial greeting and laughter and turned to look toward the source. The man, sitting by the fire, was tall and burly. He was dressed in clothes woven of leaves, and carried a knife made of rock.

The man stood and came to Rodrig. He introduced himself as Bortell, and helped Rodrig sit up against the wall. Bortell explained to Rodrig that he had been found at the entrance of the Badlands, where he had been dumped and left for dead three days previously. Bortell brought Rodrig a bowl of hot liquid and helped him eat it.

Rodrig could only focus on the food. The smell was strange, and it did not taste good. It was the best thing he had ever eaten. He could feel it warming up his insides, and he began to feel stronger. He answered the questions Bortell asked of him and asked a few of his own. He asked Bortell of the year and received a shocking answer.

Rodrig had been locked in the dungeons for ten Harvests.

He fell over onto the bed and wept himself to sleep.

When he woke, he was able to sit up on his own. Bortell was not in the hut, but Rodrig could hear him outside speaking to someone. Rodrig called out as loud as he could, but it took awhile for Bortell to return. With him was a thin, bald man, holding a battered wooden case. The man set the case on the table and came to speak with Rodrig. As it turned out, the man was a Healer, and had come to inspect Rodrig's body. The Healer, Jern, concluded that Rodrig's body was recovering, and that he should be able to walk within the season.

Rodrig spent his days exercising his arms and legs, attempting to stand and step across the room. Eventually, he was able to walk outside and sit outside the hut. He sat on a rock near the door of the hut and watched the other prisoners going about their business. He noticed that the huts were all made of hardened mud, with roofs of thatched Biloto fronds. He could see many Biloto trees, tall and skinny, towering into the sky to the east of the village.

When Rodrig was able to work, Bortell took him to the stand of Biloto trees to gather fronds and fallen fruit. Bortell explained how to prepare the fruit to eat and also how to extract the liquid from the Biloto fruit. He explained that they did not often receive supplies from the caravans because all of the supplies were usually stolen by the hard-nosed Badlanders dwelling in the nearby caves. The prisoners of this work-camp had learned to live off the land, and made do with what they had.

Rodrig did his part and learned to live in the camp. He dreamed of Rosaaya, and dreamed of the village of Tristan, but knew he would never see either again in his lifetime.

One day, there came news that a Thane had arrived in the Badlands. The prisoners were interested in this new overseer and skeptical of his motives. The Thane, called Marsten-the-Press, arrived into their camp the following morning.

Rodrig thought there was something familiar about this Thane, and was reminded of his own Apah. He listened to the words of the Thane, and heard the plans they were all to become a part of. After the Thane's speech, Rodrig waited in line with the others. When it was his turn to receive his assignment, Rodrig went to the Thane. They met and exchanged greetings. The Thane looked at him strangely at first, but then began to speak about how they would need strong hands in the caves. Rodrig was to report to the caves first thing the next day.

As they walked back to their camp, Bortell clapped Rodrig on the shoulder, teasing him that the Thane might be his own son, the two looked so much alike. Rodrig was confused, but said nothing and put this coincidence from his mind.

That night, there was a raucous celebration from the caverns, Rodrig assumed that they were feasting in honor of the Thane's arrival.

The next morning, all was quiet. Rodrig reported to the caves as ordered and was assigned as a leader with a team of three to clear the furthest caves in the network of caves. Rodrig was appalled to find that all of the passageways and caverns were filled with corpses. But, he did as he was bid and told his team to begin stacking the corpses to prepare them for burning.

He felt something strange in the cavern and in his mind, but paid no attention.

Suddenly, the She-Dragon was upon them.

As Rodrig looked up at the massive black dragon, he was awed. He had heard of dragons, and even seen them soaring above the Black Fist, but had never been close enough to touch one. Oddly, he was not afraid. He felt no fear of this beast of the land and sky, but instead felt acknowledgement, even... kinship.

Rodrig did not know what to think of this, but the dragon did not give him much chance to think. She had already collected and killed the three members of his team before he could do anything. He became angry and stood glaring at the dragon. He was not afraid of death, just as he was not afraid of the dragon. He had already lost everything he'd ever held dear, there was nothing to lose.

The dragon turned to him.

He looked into her eyes and did not look away. He had no plan of action, but he knew that he must stand his ground. She blinked at him and chuffed.

A strange sensation came over Rodrig's body. He could not move, he could not speak, he could not take his eyes from hers. He felt as if he and the dragon were one and the same. Images started to flash in his mind. The dragon was speaking, somehow, in his head. Not in a language he could understand, but in imagery, moving stories, perhaps even memories.

He saw ancient lands, lush and teeming with life. He saw ancestors of his people and ancestors of the dragons together, masters of the land. He saw this dragon's past, stretching into years innumerable. He saw her memories of emerging from her lair to feast on the criminals gathered in the caverns, over and over. He saw how she had recognized him, that she equated him to those beings of old who had walked with dragons.

He did not understand how any of this related to their current situation, or why the dragon was speaking to him instead of killing him.

The dragon understood his thoughts and sat back to build a new set of imagery into his mind. He received the understanding that she had been waiting for one who had descended from the ancestors to arrive in these caves. He saw that she had been returning to these caverns for nearly a millennium, feasting on the criminals she would find in the caverns, and abiding the interim time in slumber.

He then saw what she why she had been waiting for him so long: she sent him an image of he and the dragon, walking side by side... just as she had shown him their ancestors walking side by side.

Rodrig did not know how to respond. He did not know what to think.

The next image that came was of The Black Fist. The turrets were strewn with the staked corpses of the Lords who had reigned for so long. He saw Lord Yshan staked there, with maggots crawling from the sockets of his evil eyes and birds picking at his mottled and decaying skin.

Rodrig smiled.

He spoke to the dragon, telling her he would walk with her. He told her that he did not know of her ways and would need more time to grow accustomed to speaking to her without words. He told her that he did not want her to kill any more people in the caves. She seemed slightly disappointed, but understood that he believed these to be good people. She and he, of one mind, were in agreement.

She-Dragon gathered him gently in her hands, creating a cage for him to sit in by interlacing her talons. She spread her wings to their full breadth and began to rise to the ceiling of the cavern. She reached one of the entrances that had been blocked off by boulders. She used one of her hind legs to kick them out of the way. Rodrig saw villagers running in terror, screaming and stumbling to get away from the dragon. She looked at them wistfully and impatiently, but then began to ram her shoulders and wings against the roof of the tunnel where they had been waiting. She broke through the rock and climbed up through the hole she had made.

She took a moment to bask in the daylight outside and then, spreading her wings, rose into the sky.

Rodrig did not know where she intended to take him, but was so enthralled by the view of the Bandlands and the distant world beyond that he did not care. He saw prisoners running to and fro near the cave entrance, many of them pointing and yelling up at the dragon. He saw some of them with weapons, and even saw some of the people attempting to throw or shoot things at the dragon.

She-Dragon paid them no mind and flew off to the west, toward Dragon's Aerie. She landed in a clearing on one of the plateaus and let out a long and wailing cry that echoed throughout the jungle. Dragons that Rodrig had not even seen rose from the floor of the clearing and moved toward them. Looking to the sky, Rodrig began to see dragons gliding in from all directions.Soon, there were dragons surrounding the two of them. Even so, She-Dragon was larger than any of them by half.

She-Dragon presented Rodrig to them. They chuffed and looked at him with curiosity. She-Dragon told them, Rodrig knew, that they would accept him as one of their own.

The dragons lifted their heads and roared as one.

Pearls-Before-Swine waddled her enormous self over to Ham-Without-Teeth and slid her share of the smoked bacon off onto his plate. She winked at him, wiped her semi-hairy face and smiled. Sure, she'd be hungry for another day or two but it didn't matter. Ham-Without-Teeth needed the food for strength more than she needed it for her knitting and mending.

Several more days passed. Marsten should have been back from his trip to the Eastermore by now. The men were getting worried.

Teeth grinded to a halt and stopped chewing when he saw the swarthy Pearls-Before-Swine give Ham-Without Teeth her portion, so he thought, 'Ham-Without Teeth is cosy with Pearls-Before-Swine, hmm?'

Teeth tried to hide it, but he felt jealousy stirring up within him; Pearls-Before-Swine was his bit on the side, not Ham-Without Teeth's and what the hell did she see in him anyway?

Thoughts like these consumed Teeth on and off for days after.

Pletch-As gloated as he watched Marsten's agony from the shadows, ever scratching his nubled chin and smirking slyly. When Marsten screamed, "That madman will die for this!" it was apparent Marsten hadn't examined the ring yet. Pletch-As was ready to set his next vile plan in motion; but, he had to do it carefully so that he wouldn't accidently be killed before the whole plot had been hatched.

He waited in the woods until Marsten left the Grimoirk to return to the Badlands. He handed a note to the aegile to deliver to Marsten. The aegile clutched it in his sharp talons and flew to Marsten, whereupon he dropped the note clearly in front of Marsten and returned to Pletch-As.

Marsten picked up the note and read it. "Inspect the ring." That's all it said.

He squinched an eye, cocked his head sideways and pulled the ring out of his pocket. There was an inscription inside!

"To my wife Aaiyana -With All My Love - Ulir"

Marsten was in emotional turmoil now. His mind raced. Had he been wrong? Had he misjudged? Ulir, Ulir, Ulir - oh yes! He remembered the story of Ulir that Pletch-As had told him. Naw, couldn't be! Doubt consumed Marsten and he decided to camp early to contemplate.

The next morning, Marsten had decided. He'd have to change his route. He knew Ulir was held in Tristan by a group of elders. His movement and actions confined and dictated by this wise group of old men. He had to go find this Ulir fellow and see what he had to do with his Mother, Aaiyana.

Marsten put out his fire, rolled up his bedroll, gathered his goods and back-tracked to the footpath to Tristan.

The days had turned into weeks and Narnook-The Lost had to settle the men's fears. They were becoming restless waiting for Marsten to return and morale was dropping. Narnook-The Lost did his best but he was clearly in over his head. He had never been given so much responsibility. He was a simple Tradesman and could build a dwelling but that was about it. Doubting himself, he sighed and walked over to where one group of men were huddled. Most of them sitting idly about picking at the dirt under their nails with a variety of blades.

Just as Narnook-The Lost was about to speak, a disturbance broke out in another part of the camp. He rushed over to see two men fighting. Men who had cleared out of the way, rushed back into separate the two men. Other men started to push and shove, the dissent seemed to spread outwards and just when Narnook-The Lost thought the melee had been squashed, other men joined the fight and a huge brawl errupted.

Narnook-The Lost, lost all power over the situation, feeling helpless he turned his back and left them to fight it out amongst themselves. Lost in his own sense of failure, he walked with his head down towards his tent.

As he walked, he began to feel angry. A rage rising up within him. These men were not going to get the better of him. He was sick and tired of being a loser. He ran to his tent and grabbed the leather whip. It was hand made and given to him by his Father when he was a young lad.

Narnook-The Lost, lost his passive self and raged back towards the brawl yeilding the whip amonst the men. Cracking them open and dispersing them; separating them and slashing each individual with the whip. Narnook-The Lost had never felt so angry and his wrath burst out unrestrained upon them. The men whimpered into order and even when they stopped fighting, Narnook-The Lost did not stop cracking the whip; the frenzy quelled when the camp was silent.

Narnook-The Lost, lost it with the men but he had retained order. With or without Marsten, the men had confidence in their new leader and got back to their tasks.

Several days later, Marsten arrived in Tristan. Little did he know or suspect, he had been shadowed by Pletch-As. Marsten was ragged and dirty from the long trek and he hadn't washed yet; but, that didn't stop the portly, plump and pleasant Havard-the-Axe from greeting him as he entered the sprawling village.

"How do you do; I'm Havard-the-Axe the village Sheriff. I haven't seen your face since you were knee-high to a grasshopper! Where have you been hiding all these years? How is your dear, sweet mother doing? Did you come for the Festival? It's not until next week you know." the bubbly sheriff rattled on without taking a breath.

"Hail! I am fine, thank you for asking. I wasn't hiding, I was growing up." Marsten replied with a smile and then he continued. "Now I work as a sort of over-seer for the Badlands."

He paused, put his hand to his chest as his heart skipped a few beats here and there as he tried to restrain his grief to answer the battery of questions, "My Mother passed away just four days ago, may she rest in peace."

The sheriff's wide, ear-to-ear grin dropped like a pair of pancakes with a bad case of the droops. He frowned and after a long silence replied, "I - I am so - so sorry to hear that. She was a kind and pleasant young woman. If there's anything we - I - can do, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you Sir. And no, I didn't know about the Festival. I came to see somebody actually, you might be able to give me directions if you would." said Marsten.

"The Children's Festival - this will be our first year. It's for the children, those who lived through the plague here in Tristan. But, please do tell, who is it you seek?" the sheriff asked.

"I'm looking for Ulir." Marsten replied without explanation.

"Oh I see." the sheriff pinched his lips together. His head ticked back and forth like his thoughts were negotiating amongst themselves and then he replied, "Up the hill toward my place. Just before you get to my place which is at the top of the hill, you'll see a cabin set off in the woods to the right. It's pretty well hidden by the trees; but, the footpath is clearly visible from the road." He pointed.

"Thank you Sir, have a good day and good luck with your festival." Marsten replied and trotted off before the Man-of-Many-Questions could ask anything else.

Pearls-Before-Swine wrapped Ham-Without-Teeth into her bosoms and he snuggled into them and drifted off to sleep. He had had a hard day, it was bitterly cold and her bosoms were like soft warm pillows. Ham-Without-Teeth was very content.

Before her brief love affair with the camp cook, Ham Swine, the sultry Pearls-Before-Swine was known as Pearls. After that love affair ended; Pearls was known to everyone as Pearls-Before-Swine. She didn’t mind. Ham Swine was a good man, just too simple for her. She longed to have an intelligent conversation and she found that with Teeth.

It was quite a sensation in the camp when she moved her belongings out of Ham Swine’s tent to be with Teeth. Teeth was wonderful at first but he became very controlling of her and it was not very long at all that she regretted moving in with him.

Ham-Without-Teeth was gentle and did not like the way Teeth treated Pearls-Before-Swine and he told her so when he found her crying in the forest. Ham-Without-Teeth took Pearls-Before-Swine by the hand and packed her belongings up and moved her into his tent.

Teeth was furious that Ham-Without-Teeth had stolen his wench.

Pearls-Before-Swine did not think about the issues that may arise from her mistakes with her love life and very soon into the relationship with Ham-Without-Teeth, she fell pregnant. Her bosoms swelled and she developed an inner glow, her eyes had a dark shadow to them and she started crying about things that were not worth crying over; she became overly-sensitive and dramatic. So much so, Ham-Without-Teeth began to worry about what he had got himself into. Maybe, she was best left with Teeth?

Pearls-Before-Swine was pregnant; all three men had to consider that one of them, maybe the Father.

They all decided to wait until the child was born and it increased the tension among the men. Ham Swine didn't mind that much. He was a simple man and was happy just to be in with a chance. Teeth was angry and believed the child was his, whilst Ham-Without-Teeth remained flexible to enjoy the warmth of her bosoms every night.

Marsten knocked on the termite-eaten cabin door. No answer. He knocked again without a response. After the third unacknowledged knock, he opened the door and let himself in.

Three elders grabbed him. Each wore a robe with the sun. The white-robed elder had a rising sun embroidered symbol, the golden-yellow-robed elder had a full midday sun, and the third had an orange robe with a setting sun embroidery.

All three eerily spoke in unison. "Marsten, we've been expecting you. Come this way."

They led him into Ulir's bedroom where Ulir lie sleeping on a large pile of rags. Marsten looked at Ulir, then glanced in the mirror beside him, then he looked at Ulir even longer, studying his face. The machinations of thought, gears grinding and smoking were almost obvious.

"How old is he?" Marsten asked the elders.

"Thirty-two." they replied in unison.

"We look alike, is he my father?" asked Marsten.

The elders nodded affirmatively.

Marsten pulled the ring out of his pocket and handed it to the white-robed elder. "Have you ever seen this? Do you know anything about it? Were my parents married?"

The white-robed one answer, "No, we have never seen that ring. Perhaps Ulir intended to give it to your mother; but, as far as we know, they were never wed."

The orange-robed elder asked, "Do you know the Legend of Ulir?"

"Yes, yes Sir I do. Pletch-As told me the legend when I was fifteen Summers of age."

The men furred their bushy old grey eyebrows and looked at each other as though questioning each other's face.

"Pletch-As was one of the men who brought Ulir to us, stripped of all his possessions save the one ring he still wears." said the golden-yellow-robed elder. "We don't know why he didn't tell you the whole story, nor why he waited until you were almost grown."

"Can I see my father's ring?"

"Yes, of course." replied the elders in unison.

Marsten took his father's limp hand and removed the ring to inspect it.

Ulir's eyes opened-wide. His arm swung up and firmly clasped Marsten's left shoulder. He tried to speak; but, his throat and lips were dry. "Aaiyana! I remember! I remember everything now! The dragon ... the ... ", he loosened his grip on Marsten and clutched his heart with both hands, tears came to his face, and then his eyes were vacant, his breathe naught but the approaching death rattles, his body relaxed into the pile of rags and died.

The three elders eyes opened wide and they queried each other in unison, "So that ring was the cause of his creeping amnesia?"

"A curse-unto-death" Marsten said solemnly. "Just like my mother's."

Nobody heard Pletch-As outside, listening through the window. Pletch-As smiled and limped away as quietly as a shadow on a new moon's night.

Marsten's only remaining family that he was aware of were his seven village-sisters, and they weren't even related. Marsten stayed the night at his father's cabin and helped the three elders bury him in the woods he loved so dearly at sunrise.

He pocketed his father's ring with the elder's permission and set off for the Badlands at high noon. He had a lot to think about, a lot of investigating to do, a puzzle to solve and retribution to be exacted. He needed more information though, and that would require a trip to "Old Blue".

He also wanted to make a trip to Hyde, to negotiate for a more equitable system of handling criminals. It wasn't fair that Pearls-before-Swine had been banished and shunned for life over a loaf of bread she had stolen to feed the starving orphans at the underground orphange in Hyde. It wasn't fair that murderers and rapists got the same sentence as Ham-Without-Teeth whose only crime was having won a dice game of craps against a city guardsman. It wasn't fair that the brothers Ham and Teeth were banished for littering. Sure, they were slovenly, careless and reckless but they were also special cases - not quite as quick upstairs as the average person. The Badlands were filled with people who should not be there. Marsten wanted to make a difference in the justice system - or - the Injustice System as the Badlands residents call it.

Marsten traveled for five days and mulled over these thoughts as he walked. Finally, he reached "home", the Badlands.

Monolithic grew tired of his host.

Keeping in line with tradition, King Fjullwald as a child was offered to the Monolithic by his own Father. He was raised to believe he was superior because of his bloodline and when Monolithic entered him, he did not struggle. King Fjullwald embraced Monolithic with open arms and a desire to rule. The chosen ones were not superior; they were weak and transformation was easy.

The child had become the product of his upbringing and any good within him, did not stand a chance. Un-beknown to the Empire, they were only tools for Monolithic to use and discard as he saw fit.

The Hunter he had chosen from the Village of Tristan had not gone well. The Hunter was stronger than he had anticipated and it had all been in vain.

Monolithic accepted Fjullwald's child, just as he had done with the present King in the past and remained sleeping within until he needed to use him, but he felt restless and needed to find another host urgently and departed from King Fjullwald's body to search for another, discarding it on the floor like a worn out old rag.

Rosaaya walked slowly up the filthy, reeking, dilapidated tunnels of the lower levels of Hyde. She looked around at the filthy, reeking, dilapidated people of the lower levels of Hyde and felt only despair. She was one of them, yet, she did not feel like one of them. She was born here and now lived here, yet, she did not belong here. She did not belong anywhere.

It had been ten years since she’d been secreted out of the castle by Gretchin-Do-Cackle, and ten years since she had seen anything other than the surrounding squalor. She didn’t understand how anybody could be content to live in the Lower City, but she did understand their complacency. There was nothing here for any of them, but nothing outside the city walls for them either.

Most of the people here had been born in the lower city. But, there were those who had come from outlying villages to seek their fortunes in the Upper City of Hyde. Some of them survived, some of them went home in failure, but a lot of them died in the Lower City – alone, unknown, and destitute.

Rosaaya longed for a different life, a better life. When she had first awoken in Gretchin’s hovel, she had been delirious and confused. She saw the hard eyes, wrinkled face, and broken teeth of Gretchin and was afraid. She could not remember how she got out of the castle, and did not know where she was. Gretchin had cleaned and closed her wound, covering it with a poultice of herbs to assist in the healing. It had taken days for the fever to break, time which was lost to Rosaaya. The last thing she remembered was Rodrig, struggling against the guards.

When she was strong enough to stand, Gretchin had set Rosaaya to work. Rosaaya was very tired and had had trouble breathing those first few months after Gretchin had found her. But, being dutiful and grateful, Rosaaya did as she was told. Any time Gretchin would find Rosaaya resting, she would switch Rosaaya’s back, directly over the wound, with a broom. Gretchin always reminded Rosaaya of how she would be dead and buried if it hadn’t been for the rubbish cart.

Rosaaya had settled into this life, biding her time as she healed. Gretchin rarely let her out of the hovel, but Rosaaya knew which section of the town they were in and had mapped out in her mind how to get to the home of her parents. It wasn’t a good life, but it was bearable - until Gretchin got a new idea for how Rosaaya was to “earn her keep”.

One evening, Gretchin returned to the hovel with a man following her. The man was a brute, evil-looking and coarse. Gretchin had promised the man some “time with her daughter” in exchange for a new rubbish cart and some household wares. Rosaaya refused and tried to escape, but Gretchin grabbed her by the hair and forced her over to the man. The man grabbed Rosaaya and dragged her to the sleeping area. She kicked him and bit him and ripped his hair and scratched at his eyes, but he just laughed at her. Rosaaya fought as best she could, but it was of no use. He was stronger than her and bigger than her and he held her down and covered her face with his hand.

Rosaaya heard Gretchin cackling near the fire, and could do nothing but weep.

The next time Gretchin went to the castle to clean, Rosaaya left the hovel for good. She spent several hours breaking down the door of Gretchin’s hovel and, when she finally got it down, threw it into the street. She headed toward the section of the Lower City where her family lived. She arrived at the ramshackle door, but did not see anyone nearby. This part of the town was unusually quiet. She banged on the door, calling names of family members. There was no answer.

Rosaaya pulled on the door, finding that it was not barred from the inside. She stepped into the inner area and was immediately struck by an overpowering stench of decay and death. Rounding the corner from the entryway to the sleeping areas, she was greeted by the bloated and rotten corpses of her family members. There was no family. The plague had been here.

Rosaaya covered her face and grabbed anything she could find that would be of use to her. She said a small prayer to the ancestors to keep watch over her family members and struck her flint over the corpses. The flames would burn and cleanse the hovel; the rock walls would contain the fire and, eventually, the fire would die out of its own accord.

Rosaaya went to her family’s mushroom patch and saw that it still grew, undisturbed. She cleared the rubble of broken rock and dirt that had fallen on the patch since it was last tended to. When this was complete, she went back to the home of her family to clean up after the fire and make it livable again.

Rosaaya’s life since then had consisted of mushroom farming and selling, and surviving in the tunnels of Lower City. She always kept several knives on her person, and had used them more than once to protect herself.

Rosaaya shook her head to clear thoughts of the past. She gathered her cloak about her and hurried on to Upper City.

Rodrig came to know and understand the jungles of Dragon's Aerie. He gleaned food from the trees and underbrush and made weapons, as he had learned to as a child, to hunt the jungle animals. Most of his days, though, were spent with the dragon.

He had been learning to harness the connection between himself and the dragon, whom he had come to call Lady Dragon in his mind. He had figured out how to allow her thoughts to flow into his and how to keep them at bay. He had also learned how to summon her with nothing more than a thought - an image of the dragon standing with him.

The dragon had shown him many more visions of the past. She had shown how the Bond of Drakeîn, how there was always one of her kind and one of his kind. He had seen from her the way their peoples had evolved together, bonded. He saw the evolution of the Andros' weapons and tools and lifestyles, the development of the Drákōn's size and abilities.

He saw that The Black Fist had been created by Drákōn and Andros working together: the Andros had directed their companion Drákōn to carry huge stones from the mountains of the north and stack them in a specific arrangement of walls and corridors and rooms. The Andros had designed the whole castle to resemble a Drákōn's front claw as an honor of the Bond.

The eldest and largest Drákōn, Lady Dragon included, had stoked their heart-Suns to their hottest and worked together to melt and mold the stone. Smaller Drákōn would bring huge baskets, woven by the Andros and brimming with the cold waters of the nearby waterfalls, to pour over the molten stone and solidify it into the obsidian-black fortress, seamless, impenetrable and indelible.

The Bond had been honored and kept for thousands of years. Lady Dragon had revealed to Rodrig that her last companion had been the last true-blooded Lord of the Black Fist. This Lord had been murdered by a spurned half-brother, whelped on a cleaning maid, and acknowledged only duly by their father. Lady Dragon had been unable to reach her Bonded Lord before his death. It had been her Season, and she had been with her mate, across the realm, at the volcano known as Dragon's Eye.

The treacherous half-Lord had assumed control of the castle, all of the soldiers, and all of the lands of Drar-Knocht-Rhen. He ruled with carelessness and cruelty. This half-Lord had ordered his soldiers to murder all Drákōn, large and small. The larger Drákōn fought as they could, but were bound by their Bonded Lords. The Bonded Lords, coerced into submission, allowed many of the Drákōn to be slain.

Lady Dragon, having no bond, had escaped to the Badlands. She had nested there and sent out a new brood of children, though she had not the will left to train them in the ways of the Bond. She had, instead, holed up in the womb of the Mother to sleep until her next Bonded Lord would arrive. She had been there for over nine hundred years, waking once per century to feast, mate, and nest. Lady Dragon's mate, an ancient red-orange Drákōn of immense proportions, slept in the center of the Dragon's Eye, engulfed in the Blood of the Mother. He roused only when Lady Dragon called to him.

Rodrig also spent time around the other dragons. He understood from Lady Dragon that she wanted him to find companions for them. She showed him that she could sense the Blood in him. She taught him to use her senses through his own, and he learned to sense and share her experiences. He knew of flying, hunting, throwing flames, and more. This, he enjoyed.

He was free and he was new.

There was a terrific late Summer storm and the Badlands were all sloppy, mushy wet. Red clay mixed with sand footprints criss-crossed the Badlands like a chaotically knitted shawl. The men had been busy while he was gone, that much was clear. Before Marsten could reach his shack in the center of the area, the men caught up with him. Some were bragging about what they had completed during his brief absense, some were tattle-telling, some were gossiping and several had stripes across their back from Narnook's whip to complain about.

Marsten listened to the men, praised the work done by the braggarts as they had done fine work after all and the Badland's renovation project was looking good. Overall, people were happier.

Next he listened to the tattle-talers which were mostly petty stuff and the squealers just wanted to air their grievances. Once they were heard, they were happy.

The gossipers were harder to deal with. The more Marsten would listen, the longer and more tedious their stories got. Marsten listened briefly; then, thanked them and quickly moved on to the next. These guys wanted a "Thank You" more than anything else, their stories were unimportant or unsubstantiated. Martsen made no false promises to them.

Marsten summoned the healers to check on the men who had been whipped. The healers followed Jern's wise advice and applied poultices of wringwort, black-ridden and red clay to the men's backs.

Bortell asked Marsten if Rodrig was his father. Marsten was taken back by this odd question, startled to say the least. "No, I just buried my father five days ago." Marsten was still in grief over the loss of his mother, and the father he had never known. He didn't want to talk about his family life. Bortell read the facial expressions and felt he had put his foot in his mouth with bad timing. Bortell didn't know, he apologized and left sheepishly.

Narnook-the-Lost was asked to meet Marsten privately at his hut. Marsten made it to his hut and Narnook arrived shortly thereafter. They sat on the floor because the hut was primarily unfurnished. A washbowl on a ricketty wooden washstand, a small fireplace and a bedroll for a bed were the main furnishings. They discussed discipline. Narnook had a lot to learn about dealing with people. Narnook's disciplinary method of walk softly but carry a big stick would change. Sure, there's a small minority that require the physical methods of discipline; but, most people were to be handled on an individual basis. Teaching Narnook how to see the inner person in the offenders, the offender's needs and motivations, and how to weigh abuses judiciously in favor of the victims was not a lesson to be learned overnight. Narnook was willing to learn though, and, that was a good start.

As soon as Narnook left, the "Swine-Trio" knocked. Marsten opened the door and fell they in the doorway like a bunch of kids diving for pence in a haystack. Marsten helped each of them to their feet and said, "One at a time!" because they were all quibbling like three young boys with a single wooden toy soldier to play with. It didn't take long to sort out the story and Marsten asked them to leave and to send in Pearls-Before-Swine.

Pearls waddled in a few hours later. She wasn't looking forward to this meeting at all. Marsten confirmed the story about her pregnancy with her. She knew the Badlands had a "no children allowed" rule, she understood why, and she knew full well what happens to expectant mothers and newborns. She didn't want to go to the Hyde detention center for criminal mothers. She didn't want her baby to end up in one of the Hyde orphanages or on the King's supper table.

Marsten reprimanded her upon her poor choices and told her how it interferred with his plans to ask for her release under a new, more equitable justice system he planned to request next month in Hyde. This kink in his plans still had to be worked out.

Marsten looked her in the eye and said simply, "What do you propose?"

"You could hide me in the Lady Dragon's vacated cavern when the King's men come for inspection." Pearls said.

"No, that isn't going to work and you know it. What do you propose for the baby's future welfare?" Marsten asked.

Pearls replied that she had family in lower Hyde and she suggested Marsten could take the baby to her family.

"No. that isn't going to work and you know it. The gate guards aren't going to let me into Hyde without a battery of questions about the baby, and I refuse to lie. You think some more on this. I leave for Old Blue in the morning, the first of Autumn, and when I return from Old Blue, perhaps you'll have new proposals for me to consider." Marsten replied as he opened the door for her to leave.

Pearls-Before-Swine ran off into the forest crying. She had no control over her life and did the best she could. The conversation with Marsten was the last straw. Sobbing she ran into the thick woods and kept on running.

She ran and cried until she could run and cry no more and fell into a heap on the forest floor. She looked up to the trees and the sky and remained there for a long time thinking about her life. She did not want to live anymore and gave up. A life without children was a life not worth living. She unraveled her tightly knitted scarf from around her neck, tied it into a noose and looked around for a strong tree.

By the time Ham-Without-Teeth found her, it was too late. Both Mother and Child were dead.