When Dragons Rule

Gaeali stopped for a moment, squinted his eyes, then drew a wand and blasted the small rock next to Marsten into pebbles. He then turned and entered the jeweler's hut and locked the doorbolt loudly.

Marsten's ankle was cut and bruised from the shattered rock. He sat down to bandage his wounds and the rocks under him slid. The rocks continued to slide, carrying Marsten along with them ... all the way down to one of the mine entrances. The rock slide continued, carrying Marsten along helplessly like a fellow rockling. Finally it stopped and Marsten was knocked unconscious inside a deep dark cavern. The entrance he had fallen through was sealed tight, not a speck of light shown through.

Effe watched the man falling down amongst the rocks and when the Wizard was gone, she decided to help this man. Effe was only nine years old.

'Maybe, he is my Pa?' she thought and began to lift up the rocks to gain access into the cavern where the man was trapped.

Effe's Parent's had died in a fire that swept through the forest years before. It was unexpected and she did not understand what had happened. She was playing with her friends and had to stay there and not return home. Ma Corbeaner had simply told her, that her Parent's had gone away and she had to live with them.

It was an awful situation. By the time she was old enough to run away, she did. The first place she ran was to the hut where she had once lived with her Parents. At the age of eight, she looked at the desolation in silence. The hut was gone leaving only a few scattered items laying about. She salvaged what she could and placed them inside of her heart.

The Village had searched for her, the Corbeaners were beside themselves with worry but Effe was never found; she did not want to be found. Effe waited where she had once lived, in the hope that her Parent's might return for her... one day.

Vayra finished combing her long, silky beard and swiftly braided it. She took up a strip of jewel-encrusted silver and forced it tightly around the tip of her thick braid, clenching it one last time to make sure it didn't come loose.

She chugged the last of her stout, a nice vintage from the northern mountains, and belched. Patting her respectable pot belly, she made her way to the corner of her tent and stood looking at her cache. She laughed to herself at the treasure she'd gained so far on the trip to claim the Black Fist. She'd started out with a tiny rucksack of goods, and now had three casks full to the brim of goods she'd won from others in battle.

She turned to her favorite axe, by the name of Grug, and picked it up. She went into a battle stance and began to practice her moves as if against an opponent. When she was worn out, she went to her pallet and began to dress herself from the feet up in her best armor. She finished by clunking a gilded helmet atop her head and tapping it twice for good luck.

Vayra had a plan. She was going to be the next ruler of the Vigkts. She'd decided this way back when she was a mewling babe with barely a hint of stubble on the chin. She'd seen the fight between Gugen-Grip and Morvo, had even got a look at Morvo's crushed skull after the duel. Gugen-Grip had been a champion of champions, and she wanted to best him.

So far on this trip, she'd racked up seven new notches on Grug's handle. There'd only been a scant sixteen notches at the start of the trip. She grinned and stroked her whiskers as she considered how many more notches she'd carve before they got back home. Feeling the heft of Grug in her hands and looking at her casks of treasure, Vayra was as happy as she'd ever been.

She snuffed out the candles she'd had burning and crouched down to wait.

She didn't have to wait long.

She saw a shadow slip through the flap of the tent. She heard no noise, but she knew someone had come to slice her throat and claim her casks. She'd not have that, what with so much more treasure to get before the end of the trip. Besides, any coward sneaking around in the middle of the night needed a good axe to the head. Bah, she'd show him a thing or two.

She lunged up and barreled into the shadow, using the force of her powerful legs to drive her helmet forward. She heard the intruder's grunt of surprise and was on him like the crackled skin of a roast pig. She swung Grug expertly and efficiently, and the fight was over in a moment.

Vayra chuckled to herself and dragged the corpse out of her tent, toward the edge of the nearby canyon. She struck her flint to see the face of the intruder, then struck it again to make sure it was who she thought it was. She leaned over him and began to pull the armor and clothing off of the dead dwarf, muttering, "Waste not what ye can take..." as she piled to good nearby. When she was done, she dragged the corpse to the edge of the cliff.

"Ah, Falm, ye shoulda stayed home. I guess I'll have to tell Ma it was me what killed ya. So long brother mine."

She tossed his corpse off the cliff before turning to gather up her new possessions. She carried them back into the tent, making a note to get a new cask in the morning. She lit a few candles and began to inspect the armor. She found a likely bracer and put it on her wrist, nodding at the great luck that Falm had been born her twin and was thus the same size as she. The rest of the gear Vayra piled up on her casks.

She carved another notch on Grug's handle, blew out her candles, and sat down to wait.

The Krackt-Skull Miner Team found Marsten and revived him with splashes of stale wine in a goat-teat waterskin. Jar-Mouth asked, "Hello in there, can you hear me now?" as he gently rapped Marsten on the noggin. No answer. Marsten's eyes opened and rolled around a bit. Finally they stabilized, no thanks to several more knuckle raps on the head from Jar-Mouth.

"Quit!" Marsten hollered.

Jar-Mouth quit rapping Marsten on the head and asked, "Who are you young man?"

Marsten replied, "I'm ... I'm ... I am eeer Marsten. Yes, that's it, Marsten. Who are you?"

"They call me Jar-Mouth." he said as he opened his mouth wide like a fresh-caught fish gaping for air and then he threw his head back, wiggling his hand to represent a waterskin and pointing his thumb to gesture towards his mouth. His gesture clearly conveyed the idea that this man loved to drink. His swollen nose and red eyes showed he liked to drink a LOT.

The mines were all interconnected like an underground filigree of metallic rock and lumber hoists.

"Can you walk or do we need to fetch a carrier for you?" a second miner asked.

"No, I can walk, just give me a minute. Thank you for your offer. I'll be fine." Marsten replied.

"We'll be around if you need us, just rap on one of the tiny gongs you see by the wall torchs. Follow the chalk arrows drawn on the walls. They'll lead you to an exit." Jar-Mouth said as he and his men hoisted their mining picks over their shoulders and left.

Marsten found his way out easily, following Jar-Mouth's instructions. The sun was still up and it appeared to be midday. He went back to Gavelrings and Other Gold Things to have another word with Master Corbeaner. The door was still bolted closed from the inside and Master Corbeaner did not answer.

Marsten decided to camp at the mule area until he could have another word with Master Corbeaner.

As Marsten sat cross-legged in the open-flapped doorway of his tent rebandaging his ankle, Effe spotted him and approached. She was filthy and her long dress was briar-torn and ragged. Her long brown hair looked as if it hadn't been brushed in years and was knotted and tangled. Her fair-skinned face was now bronze-tanned from all of her time spent outdoors and she was skin-and-bones with hunger.

"Pah?" asked Effe.

"Excuse me?" replied Marsten.

"Are you my Pah?" she asked again.

"How old are you?" Marsten answered her question with a different question.

"I'm nine. My name is Effe. Are you my Pah?" she reiterated.

"I'm Marsten, sixteen and a half." he replied. "Obviously, I couldn't be your Pah. I'm old enough to be your older brother." Marsten replied with a pleasant welcoming smile. "Is your Pah missing?"

Effe proceeded to tell Marsten of her story. The first thing she remembered was how to get to her birth-home, her friend's house, a forest fire in which her parents went missing and then the Corbeaners. She admitted to having run away because she wanted to find her parents.

Marsten was touched by this scruffy-looking child's story. First though, he gave her a gold piece and instructed her to go buy some new clothes and shoes, a hairbrush and comb, and a shower at the bath house while he prepared a meal for the two of them.

A smile broke across her face as she ran off to get her new clothes and cleaned up. Marsten made a pot-hanger campfire and tossed carrots, celery, potatoes, salt and spices into the cold water. After it came to a boil, he added shredded rabbit meat and covered the kettle so it could tenderize the meat.

Effe came back looking like a princess with her shiney clean face smiling ear-to-ear. She smelled like violets.

Marsten nodded approvingly at her new outfit and ladled out a bowl of the rabbit stew for her. They sat and ate silently until Effe had her fill then Effe thanked Marsten for everything.

Marsten asked, "So, you know the Corbeaners?"

"Yes, I lived with them for years until I was eight." she replied.

"Have you ever seen a wizard at the Corbeaner's?" he asked.

"Oh yes, he's their best customer. That's Gaeali. He was King Fjüllwald's court wizard. I always had to hide in the cellar when Gaeali came because he's a 'temperamental so-and-so' with no love for children or anybody else. At least that's what Mrs. Corbeaner told me. Now, the King and all of the officials in Hyde and the Black Fist are gone so I suppose Gaeali is out of work like most other people. I saw Gaeali go into the Corbeaner's place, just before you fell. Is your ankle okay?" she asked.

"Oh yes, it will be fine." Marsten replied and thanked her for her concern.

"So, you never saw any transactions? You never saw what their business was?" Marsten questioned.

"Oh no. As soon as he arrived, I headed for the basement and played with my toys." she replied.

Marsten smiled and asked her if she'd like to return to the Corbeaners or go looking for her parents.

"BOTH!" She replied excitedly. "I don't know if the Corbeaners will want me back now though. Also, they never told me about my parents and I want to know where they are. I'd love to go live with Mah and Pah, if I could find them."

Marsten glanced at the Gavelrings and Other Gold Things shop and nothing seemed to have changed. He said, "Wait right here." He went and checked. The door was still bolted from the inside. The sun was going down and it appeared the mean wizard had not left yet. Marsten returned to the tent.

"Here" Marsten gave Effe his sleeping bag. "You have a good rest and in the morning we'll see what we can do for you."

Marsten stirred the fire to put it out and went to sleep outside on a bed of leaves.

Sergeant Hrickt Glakken was a scar-faced, battle-hardened middle-aged dwarf. Seven of the scout 'n' squirmish squad members had disappeared. Now, Falm was missing making the eighth missing member. His Squad Leader - Churlen-Hurl was beside him on watch all night, so that narrowed his suspects down to only one - Falm's sister Vayra.

Hickt Glakken and Churlen-Hurl waited until they heard Vayra snoring and then they slipped into her tent. The collection of goods stuffed her tent like an engorged beast, too fat to move. Hickt motioned silent instructions to Churlen and moved quietly to the other side of her bed.

The two men sprang in unison on the sleeping dwarf. They pinned her and hog-tied her like a beast. They strung her to a pole and carried her back to the waiting units of melee warriors camped in the rear. They threw the wriggling, screaming mass of treasonous dwarf on the ground then Hrickt yelled out to the gathering soldiers, "Traitor - Treasonous Witch - Hang Her or Burn Her?"

As the men argued amongst themselves, coming to no unanimous decision, Hrickt waited impatiently.

The scouts had turned their backs on Vayra while arguing about what to do with her.

She smiled grimly behind her gag and swiftly broke her bonds. She let out a battle yell and attacked the attending scouts, easily defeating them all using only the ropes and broken pole they'd tied her to. She saved Churlen-Hurl for last, snapping his neck with her bare hands.

She picked up an axe of one of the fallen scouts in one hand and a mace in the other hand and turned on the rest of the melee units, popping her joints and limbering her muscles as she swung the two weapons nonchalantly.

"Ye shoulda learnt by now that Vayra never sleeps, she only waits!", she bellowed at the others, already in a battle stance.

"Now, who will challenge me?"

She saw the melee units shrink visibly away from her and laughed maniacally as some of the younger scouts actually scurried away.

She turned to Hrickt Glakken, a challenge in her eyes.

He took one step toward her, a menacing look on his face, axe at the ready.

She walked up to him until they were nose to nose, a deep and guttural growl escaping from her lips.

They stood thus for half a minute then spontaneously dropped their weapons and she bent him backward with a lusty kiss.

"Aye, lover, and ye pulled that one off well." she told Hrickt, "Ye almost shockt me that time!"

Hrickt laughed heartily,"Aye, I knowed ye'd be resting well after offing Falm. Saw that as me chance to strike at ye!"

The two warriors laughed boisterously together, and then turned toward the melee units.

Hrickt raised Vayra's hand in the air, and yelled to the scouts, "Vayra is our new Squad Leader. If ye have any objections, ye can take it up with her fists."

There was only silence as a response.

Vayra and Hrickt laughed again and walked off, hand in hand, arguing about what percentages of the dead dwarfs' loot they would each receive.

The other melee dwarfs went back to their training routines.

As Rodrig put the finishing touches on the living area for new recruits, Rosaaya had begun to make forays down into Hyde. She would ride Kyaz down to the old mining shaft and trek down into the Lower City, mingling with the citizens.

At first, most of the citizens had been working together well. They worked diligently to create a new city in what had once been the illustrious Upper City. They had torn down and disposed of the rubble that had been left by Dragon’s rampage. They’d also planted many gardens and ventured in groups outside of the city gates to forage for food. In the process of clearing out the rubbish, the citizens had discovered and collected valuables they’d found in the ruins of the city, and many of them had staked out areas which they had claimed as their own.

There, the trouble had started.

Rosaaya had already seen many fights break out over claimed parcels, and there had been several murders as well. She had even seen people walking around draped in blackened jewels and strangely shaped pieces of gold and silver that had been melted by Dragon’s fires but had since cooled and reformed.

Some of the citizens had decided that they would be the new nobles of the town, and had taken up residence in the Black Fist, coming down to Hyde in their “finery” to strut and attempt to order other people around. Generally, they were laughed at. But, a few people took offense and new arguments arose as a result.

Rosaaya spent her time working with the other citizens to clean up. She listened to what they had to say, and looked for people in whom she could sense the Blood. She found that the people she could sense were varied in age, gender, and character. There were old crones, young children, hardened men, seasoned veterans, and even some people from outlying villages who had been in Lower City by chance when Dragon had passed his judgment.

She learned that many folks were very much afraid the dragon would return to kill the rest of them, so they were staying in their old Lower City homes, only venturing up to Lower City during daylight hours. Even so, she sensed an enormous shift in attitude of the people of Lower City. They now had hope and felt like they were important and a part of something larger than themselves – a worthy community.

She stayed in her old home most nights, communicating to Kyaz that she was faring well and asking him to convey the messages to Rodrig. At times, Rodrig would send a message back. In this way, they formulated a rough plan on how to best recruit citizens. Rosaaya would move among the citizens, letting small tidbits of information slip about dragon lore and openly pondering the fate of the realm. Soon, she began to hear others gossiping and arguing about the various aspects of lore and a new form of government they wished to see raised from the ruins of the once-proud city of Hyde.

When Rosaaya felt that she had found enough people who might be interested in joining forces with the dragons, she summoned Kyaz and took to the Aerie. Dragon called the other dragons in from their ranging and conveyed that it was time for them to choose a human to bond to.

At the next sunrise, the dragons took flight as one and flew to Hyde, circling high above the Black Fist. Rodrig and Dragon, Rosaaya and Kyaz landed in front of what had been the gateways between Upper City and Lower City.

Citizens began screaming and running to hide, but there were a few people who stood their ground, captivated by the size, power, and wild beauty of the dragons. Rodrig and Rosaaya dismounted and went to stand together in front of the dragons.

“Citizens of Hyde”, Rodrig began, “We have come to offer you a proposal from the Dragons.”

Platoon Leader Jaxon-Hairy Axe wasn't going to let his platoon and five squad leaders get pushed around by a rogue scout and her accomplice. Dwarves might be a gold-munching, greedy race but they aren't treasonous law-breakers. Law and order was an innate characteristic of the Vigkts. Vayra was an aberration from the norm in more ways than one. Hrickt Glakken was a different sort of renegade, apparently letting his testosterone rule over his common dwarf sense. An example would have to be made of him as well.

Jaxon-Hairy Axe bellowed out the order, "Seize and destroy those two! Burn the witch and hang her accomplice!"

The order was given and the men picked up their weapons and attacked like a vicious swarm of starving mice on the last two grains of wheat in a barrel. Vayra and Hrickt Glakken were ground into mincemeat by the fifty-six flying axes. The didn't have a chance. The soldiers dragged the two bandits to their posts, burning the hairy flat-chested witch and hanging Hrickt.

The corpses were left to the carrion. Burial was a priviledge they didn't earn.

The next morning, Marsten and Effe woke up, packed the tent, ate dried fish and white-cheese which smelled like dirty old socks and descended down the slope to the small forest which had burned so many years ago.

Effe led and Marsten followed. Her nine year old legs had to work twice as hard to stay ahead; but, she was happy and excited. Finally after all these years, she would be reunited with her parents.

Marsten counselled Effe as they travelled. "You know we might not find them or find them alive?"

Effe confidently replied, "Oh yes we will. You just see."

Marsten knew he'd never change her mind so he was quiet the rest of the way and let the silence burn his last words into her malleable mind.

They arrived at Effe's birth-hut by mid morning. The dew was still on the ground and weeds, grasses and flowers sparkled with dewdrops. The charcoal from the burnt hut was deep in the overgrown weeds. Marsten looked around, nudged the ground with the tip of his boots now and then, looking for clues. "There's not much left", he broke the silence. "Were you home when the fire started?"

"No, I was at my friend Amie-Lah's house over there," she pointed South East. In the distance, the foothill declined and one could see a small grass-thatched rooftop about a mile away.

"Did your parents have a special place, you know, one for grownups only perhaps?" Marsten asked.

Effe thought a moment and exclaimed, "Oh Yes! Yes they did! It's back by the pond. They would go there to talk without me hearing them."

"Let's go see." Marsten said.

Effe flitted through the weeds like a joyful butterfly, racing towards the pond. When they arrived at the pond, Marsten saw the new forest growth all around it. He noticed an outcropping of rock and went to investigate while Effe threw rocks in the water to watch the ripples.

Marsten stopped cold on the other side of the outcrop. It was hollowed-out, partly by nature and partly manmade with a pickaxe. It made a natural weather canopy and faces away from the cool winds that might have drifted over the pond at night. Inside, were three human skeletons. One longer than the other, and one was that of a newborn or unborn baby. Marsten reckoned it was unborn because the head was pointed down, rather than up. Martsen thought to himself, "Mother Nature kills her own children and babies, just like Pearls-Without-Swine committed infanticide. Ironic." He gathered his wits and then walked over to Effe.

"Effe," he said in a somber tone.

"Yes?"

Marsten turned Effe to face him, brushed the windblown hair out of her eyes and said, "Look at me."

"Yes?" Effe said much more somberly this time.

"Your parents are dead."

"NO! No! They can't be!"

Marsten let his words sink in a few minutes while Effe hit his thighs with her fists.

Effe started crying, and bawling, and crying harder. Finally, the sobs became a muted hiccup as she choked back the emotion.

"I want to see them," she said.

Marsten took her hand and led her over to the other side of the pond, the other side of the outcropping.

Effe saw them, two skeletons, lying down side by side embracing, and a baby skeleton.

"Shall we give them a proper funeral now?" Marsten asked.

Effe licked the salty tears off of her lips, bit them together and nodded her head, "Yes."

Together, Marsten and Effe dug and dug and dug some more until they were black with moist soil and tired as ragdolls.

Finally, as the sun went down, Marsten placed them in their three graves.

Effe said, "Good bye" to each of them and threw a handful of dirt in the graves. She went to the alcove, the outcropping her parent's and sibling's bodies were found in, as Marsten filled in the graves. When he was done, Effe went back to the graves and took off her mother's necklace she had found, placing it on top of her mother's grave. Silently, she gathered rocks and piled them up on each of the three graves and Marsten helped her.

They skipped dinner, nobody was hungry. They camped at the alcove outcrop that night. The night air was chilly.

Tomorrow morning, they would return to the Corbeaner's place.

Jaxon-Hairy Axe had sent a tunnel-rat message to Gugen-Grip about the fate and loss of the Scout and Skirmish squads yesterday, right after the execution of the treasonous bandits. He and his men had continued their trek toward the border of Drar-Knocht-Rhen and camped for the night while awaiting a reply from Gugen-Grip.

The grey greasy-haired, dusty tunnel-rat messenger jumped on Jaxon's obese stomach to wake him up and deliver the priority message. Jaxon woke up quickly and gave the rat an orange-sized sack of grain for his reward and lit a candle to read the message.

"Hold your position. Proceed not until your replacements and additional backup arrive. ETA two weeks." - signed simply 'Gugen-Grip'

"That's great. Now what?" Jaxon said aloud to himself.

The tent flap blew open and Falm's ghost entered unseen. The wind also blew in a flier. The flier was one of those commonly distributed news fliers they write in Drar-Knocht-Rhen. In brief, it mentioned the recent dragon attacks in the Badlands, at The Black Fist and in Hyde which the dwarves already knew about; but, this edition included a tidbit about the Dragon Eye Volcano's red-orange dragon, and a cobalt dragon and a handful of be-draggled dragon-worshippers showing up at the main gate of Hyde.

Jaxon made some notes and attached the flier to the tunnel-rat and sent him on his way back to Gugen-grip.

The next morning, Jaxon called his men together and told them to break camp. He informed them he had a very special treat for them but insisted it was a surprise and he'd give no details yet. First, they would cross the border as planned; but, instead of turning West South West toward Hyde, they were taking a two week furlough and going a different direction.

The happy dwarves eyes glittered and danced as each packed up his goods and imagined what great surprise might be in store for them. They packed up twice as fast as normal and gathered for their march.

Jaxon led them across the border and turned East South East toward the Westernmost edge of Old Blue. They marched for about four hours and at the foothill of Old Blue they stopped to have lunch. After lunch, Jaxon got four volunteers to roll a large stone. A gaping hole was hidden beneathe it. The dwarves lit torches and entered the hole. Using a lasso-rope, they pulled the rock back over the opening and proceeded down a very long tunnel to a large dwarven room. "This," said Jaxon "is our storage room." The dwarves all shuffled their feet and gave him a blank stare. "We're going to nab a dragon horde and store it right here!" he announced triumphantly.

The dwarves all dropped their gear and grabbed their mugs and ale. They hooped and hollered and celebrated for a good fifteen minutes. Then, eager to get on their way, they reloaded their gear and stood obediently in formation.

"This old tunnel goes all the way through Old Blue, underneathe the human mines, and has many exits. One is at the treasure chamber in the Dragon's Eye Volcano. That wicked old reptilian slept on his horde since before many of you were born. NOW, he has left his horde untended. NOW is our time to collect gold for ourselves!"

More hooping and hollering and cheers of joy. The men were eager and ready so off they went, singing old dwarven golden treasure songs.

Several days back, Gaeali had locked himself in the Corbeaner's shop. He stayed until Master Corbeaner had finished crafting the gold stands for his twin dragon eyeballs. When the eyeballs were mounted to the stands, the gazing balls were completed. That took two days and nights for the pair of superb gazing balls. It was now time to deliver and collect his fee.

Master Corbeaner handed the meticulously crafted gazing balls to Gaeali. They had four golden dragon arms embracing the balls, and four golden dragon feet beneathe the stand. A multi-coloured, mirror-bit mosaic lay on the golden stand's top base, just below the eyeballs. Gold lace filigree netted the balls gracefully. The dragon's slanty irises and pupils faced toward the ceiling.

"Perfection, as always." stated Gaeali flatly as he wrapped the balls in several protective felt cloths. He turned to leave with his order when Master Corbeaner cleared his throat loudly and said, "Ahem, my fee. Two hundred gold pieces for the pair." He held out his hands with a large gold pouch.

"Hah!" barked Gaeali, "I'm unemployed now and broke. Put it on my bill."

"BILL? BILL! Bill you say? No way!" Master Corbeaner reprimanded loudly. Mrs. Corbeaner disappeared quietly around the corner toward the basement.

"Yes, yes I SAY!" yelled Gaeali. "Are you going to try to stop me you blithering fool?"

"Fool? FOOL! We'll see who is the FOOL!" countered the spunky old Master Corbeaner.

Gaeali pulled a pouch out of his pocket and sprinkled glittery fairy dust over his head. He vanished into thin air.

Master Corbeaner stood with his back to the bolted door to keep the invisible wizard trapped inside. He stood, and listened, and stood and listened some more. He heard nothing, saw nothing. He waved his arms around to feel where the invisible, silent wizard might be. Nothing. He walked away from the door to do his waving arm detection around the room. As he reached the back, the front door bolt slid open, the door opened wide.

Whoosh! That was it. The wiley wizard didn't even bother to close the door behind him.

Rodrig watched Rosaaya as she moved around their little thatched hut, preparing their midday meal. He looked at her growing middle and felt a flush of pleasure, thinking of her and of their unborn children. He still could not believe that he had found her again, and he often caught himself wondering how he could have been so lucky. He went to her and put his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. She smiled at him and then playfully pushed him away, telling him to finish packing his parcel.

They were preparing to take a trip to Tristan before the birth. Rodrig had told her all he could remember of Tristan, and she wanted to see it with her own eyes. Rodrig did not know whether Apah or Amah or any of the people he remembered were still alive, but he wanted to return to the village of his birth anyway.

During the weeks since they had first landed in Hyde, many things had changed. They had taken up residence in the Black Fist that first evening; much of it had already been cleared out by the citizens who’d been staying there. The citizeens treated Rodrig and Rosaaya like royalty, doing anything they asked and even suggesting work for themselves.

Rosaaya thought it funny that the people would act this way, but Rodrig knew that it was only so for fear of the dragons. By the time things had settled down and the citizens had accepted the dragons, Rodrig and some enterprising new merchants had done an inventory of all of the food stores and gardens of Hyde, as well as taken a census to see how many citizens needed to be fed.

One day, while inspecting the cellars beneath the castle, they had discovered a large number of former occupants of the Black Fist: lords and ladies, magicians and healers, counselors and magistrates who had taken refuge during Dragon’s attack on Hyde. They were frightened and cold and angry, but they had survived nonetheless.

Rodrig felt that they should be sentenced to death, but Rosaaya had convinced him that they could easily live among the rest of Hyde citizens, now that they had no more power or influence in the city.

Rodrig and the merchants had come to the conclusion that there was not enough food in the city to sustain the number of people who lived there. He had opened the gates of the city, encouraging people to travel in caravans to find more supplies and to relocate if they wished to.

To his surprise, very few people wanted to leave the town. Rodrig decided that those who were able should, then, work in the mines to glean any precious metals and gems they could from deep below Hyde. Many were only too happy to comply. Rodrig found that the miners did not even care for the jewels and metals; but gave them to Dragon instead. Dragon had gathered a sizable heap of treasure in a short amount of time. The rest of the metals and gems were fashioned into jewels and bars to use for barter in the villages outside of Hyde.

They had found thirteen new recruits, all volunteers. They had each been chosen by a dragon, and they had all Bonded. There were men and women among the Bonded, old and young. Rodrig was pleased that they had all taken so well to their new life. They had all returned to Dragon’s Aerie for training, and had only left to practice flight or to briefly visit Hyde.

Rodrig was jolted from his reverie by a loud growl. He could sense Dragon nearby, and went outside to greet him.

Dragon showed Rodrig that he was prepared to carry them down toward Tristan. Rodrig returned to the house and he and Rosaaya ate their meal, picked up their parcels, and went out to Dragon.

Rodrig had already let the other Bonded know that they would not return for a while. He had put a stalwart man by the name of Huxo in charge of the other recruits while they were gone. He nodded to Huxo and waved to the other recruits, and they lifted off.

He never got tired of it: flying, the wind in his hair, the cold on his cheeks, and especially Rosaaya’s arms around his chest and head leaning on his back. He couldn’t help it – he smiled widely as they flew along.

It did not take them long to reach the edge of the forest. They had decided to enter the village on foot so as not to alarm the villagers. Tristan was several hours journey on foot from their landing spot, but they were in no hurry. Rodrig and Rosaaya bade farewell to Dragon and watched as he flew away into the distance.

They picked their way along through the forest, laughing and conversing. Rodrig told Rosaaya the names of plants they saw as well as their various uses. As they got closer to the village, Rodrig began to tell stories about days he had spent in the forest, things he had done as a child.

They found the path into Tristan and, as they walked it, saw runners heading into town ahead of them. By the time they reached the village, there were a sizable number of people waiting for them in the village center. Several Elders came forward, demanding a purpose for the visit.

Rodrig made it known that he had been born in the village, and spoke the names of his family members. He told them he had been taken during the Lot, many years ago, but had returned to see his birthplace. The Elders took time to confer to come to a decision on whether or not to allow them into the village. Rodrig looked closely at the faces of the people in the town, but did not see Apah or Amah there. He felt a sense of sadness, but knew that it had been unlikely they would still be in the town.

The Elders turned back to Rodrig and Rosaaya, stern of face and hard of mouth. Several hunters with weapons stepped forward, forming a barrier in front of the village folk. “You must leave this place.” One Elder said, “You do not belong. None of the Lot ever returns. You are a bad omen to us, and we will not welcome you.” With that, the hunters pointed their weapons at Rodrig and Rosaaya, slowly advancing toward them.

Rodrig spoke loudly, trying to convince the Elders to allow them to return, but the hunters kept coming.

Finally, Rodrig grabbed Rosaaya’s hand and they left Tristan.

Rosaaya comforted Rodrig as much as he would allow. He tried not to let his disappointment at being sent away from Tristan show, but she knew when he was upset. She decided that she would make him a tasty dinner from some of the plants he had shown her earlier, as a small consolation.

They walked on, but it quickly became dark. She spoke to Rodrig, asking him if he knew of a good place nearby for a camp. He looked up, took his bearings, and then led her toward a large formation of rocks in the distance. When they reached the rocks, Rodrig showed her a cave, hidden cleverly by the position of the rocks. They set down their packs, and began to prepare their camp in the cave. Rodrig quickly set up a fire and went to look for more fuel. Rosaaya waited until he was out of sight, then took up a torch and set off in the opposite direction to find some of the plants Rodrig had said tasted the best.

Rosaaya went along, enjoying the cool night air, and thinking about what Rodrig must have been like as a child. She felt the quickening of her own children, rubbed her midsection right above where they were and smiled to herself. She knew that Rodrig would be a good father, and she knew how happy he was. She still could not believe that he had found her again, and she often caught herself wondering how she could have been so lucky.

She spotted a large bunch of what Rodrig had said were is favorite fruit, and began to gather them. She had only picked a few before she heard a twig snap behind her. She turned to face Rodrig, laughing, “Rodrig, how did you…”

It was not Rodrig.

The fear rose in her throat and her heart started race. She remembered those ugly eyes and that ugly sneer. She remembered the words he had said to her that day in the castle corridor. The scar on her back began to itch, and she dropped the fruit on the ground, preparing to run.

“Well, the harlot lived!” He said as he walked toward her, “I thought I told my soldiers to dispose of you and your filthy lover.” He laughed cruelly, “I beat him with my own hands, you know. I stabbed him with my sword, and made cuts in his skin as he watched. I think you are the one that gets to be beaten this time.”

He reached toward her, laughing again.

Rosaaya threw her torch in his face and ran as fast as she could back toward camp. She stumbled along, listening to the curses of Lord Yshan as he followed her, intent on murdering her there, in Rodrig’s beloved forest.

She pulled two knives out of her clothes, glad that she had never stopped carrying them, and looked for a place to gain higher ground. She ran around a tree and was grabbed in the metal-like grip of a pair of arms. She struggled and screamed for Rodrig, stabbing the arms of the man holding her. He let her go in surprise, but Yshan was already upon her.

He grabbed her by the hair and started to pummel her with his free fist. He punched her in the stomach. She felt the pain radiate out from her center and fell, breathless, to the ground. Yshan let go of her hair and pinned her legs down, then tried to climb on top of her. She put a knife in his throat.

She looked into his evil eyes as blood started to spurt from the wound, then stuck her other knife into his stomach. She rolled out from under him and watched as he writhed on the ground. He reached toward her foot, and she spit on him.

She heard Rodrig calling to her, and yelled out to him. The man with the sliced arms had called out to others, and she heard them tearing through the bush toward them. She got her knives ready again, and backed against a tree so they could not come up behind her.

Rodrig burst through the clearing, a wild look in his eyes – a torch in one hand and a club in the other. Rosaaya yelled to him that more of Yshan’s men were coming through the forest and he ran toward them, swinging his club. He was on them before they saw him coming and quickly defeated two of them. Rosaaya ran up behind him and slashed at the others while they were focused on Rodrig.

When it was over, they sat down on the ground, holding each other.

Neither of them had felt like eating when they’d finally made it back to the camp. They went into the cave and lay down, still holding each other. Rodrig held Rosaaya as close as he could, watching her sleep.

He had just fallen asleep when she woke with a start, eyes wide, and put her hands to her abdomen. He saw the pain on her face, and did not know what to do. She spent the night in agony, and he did all he could to ease her suffering. In the morning, he had left her only to bury their tiny children beneath a tall and beautiful tree.

He wept for their children and for Rosaaya and for himself.

When Rosaaya finally woke from her fitful and exhausted sleep, she asked him where he had placed the grave. He took her by the hand and led her there. She lay down on the grave and did not move.

For three days, he had been bringing her food and water, washing her face, and talking to her. She would not respond to him.

What frightened him the most was that she was completely silent.

She was silent, and she did not weep.

Rosaaya roused herself on the fourth day. She knew now that she would never have that life of safety, security, love, and warmth that she had so wanted. She was not lucky. She had been a fool for ever thinking she could have been lucky. It had all been a joke, a cruelty from the ancestors who had decided her fate.

She stood and walked past Rodrig to the nearby stream. She went into the stream fully clothed and sat down. Rodrig stood on the bank as she took out a knife and cut all the hair from her head. She let her hair drift lazily down the stream, and then lay back in the water until it covered her face.

She stayed under the water until she felt herself starting to pass out, and then raised herself from the water. She stood and walked past Rodrig. He reached out to her, and started to say something, but stopped and just followed her back to the camp.

She gathered their things, handed him his pack, and set off for home.

Rodrig could do nothing for Rosaaya.

He could see the coldness and distance in her eyes. She would not speak to him; she would rarely even look at him.

Each step on their journey back to the edge of the forest, Rodrig’s heart hurt for her and for their lost little ones.

Soon, that pain turned to anger. He began fuming that Yshan had escaped Dragon’s wrath, that Yshan had lived so long, that Yshan had hurt Rosaaya and murdered their children.

Rodrig began to feel hate for those usurpers, those weak-minded, those simpering and bowing people he had gotten used to. He began to feel malice in his heart, and he understood why this had happened.

He was to be the new King, and Rosaaya the Queen.

Together, they would rule this holding sphere, and rid it of all remnants of the old dynasty.

They reached the edge of the forest, and Dragon came down from the sky.

He sensed the change in the Andros when he came to them.

He sent out a message of greeting and received an image of destruction from the male and death from the female. He could no longer sense the Blood of the brood of her womb, and understood that there would be no young Andros.

He carried them to the Shoulders of the Mother, and they went silently to their shelter.
Later, his bonded Andros came to him and wove his soul-Wind into images of the events that had occurred in the forest.

He saw the Andros’ vision of a magnificent kingdom, with much treasure to be had. He saw the deaths, enslavement, or expulsion of all of the morsels who did not possess the Blood.

He had been waiting for this.

When the Andros left, he took to the skies.

He had work to do.