Guardian Dragons (2 page)

She was his minion. He owned her.
She would never be free. Her soul had become trapped within the
labyrinth of dark magic. Long ago, she had given up being afraid of
the unknown. She believed that her soul would never pass on to the
Realm of the Dead and find peace; it was tainted with evil. If her
Master chose, he could reward her with youth and eternal life. This
was her hope.

This was all she lived for. Now her
body was old, but still she served him well. Fedros was but a
constant memory of her vile and loathsome father and every time she
looked into his face, she could see her cruel father pounding on
top of her, sweating and stinking of sour alcohol and stale smoke.
She would gladly poison this living image of him, if only her
Master would allow it, but her Master needed all of his servants
for the forthcoming battle.

Soon he would destroy the
protective spell holding the Magic Wall and then go on to invade
the Light Lands and eradicate all the weak and pathetic creatures
that dared to live and breath. Soon he will rule the whole world of
Aarabassa, and then she will receive her long awaited reward of
youth and longevity.

I see your designs are faithful to my services
Rikka
, the Mindtalk of her
Master roused her thoughts as she felt the sudden impact of his
powers.

Ah Emperor, I live only to serve you,
Rikka conveyed her loyalty.
I’ve prepared the poisons as you instructed me
Master. I keep it fresh and await your command?

Perched on a hard grey boulder she
continued to stir the pot so that the potion of swirling putrid
oils did not settle. She would gladly let the fire die down in this
blasted heat, and bottle the vile liquid but instead she had kept
it fresh while patiently waiting for her Master’s
contact.

As I have suspected for some time,
the Emperor sounded pleased,
there is a new Changeling living in our
time.

‘
Can this creature
serve you Master, in your plans?’ Rikka said allowed, her lonely
voice echoing in the damp cave.

I do not yet know the Changeling’s identity,
the Emperor admitted.
This displeases me. I hold
information that Prince Leon of the human royal family is closely
connected to this Changeling. It may even be him. I wish for you to
instruct your seed Fedros to go directly to Lairkland. There he
will enter the Royal City of Beldroth,
he commanded.
He
will feed the poison to the guard who watches this Prince’s
chambers. He must then obtain the duty of this guard, so make sure
he is ready for this task. I desire him to stay close to the Prince
until I instruct otherwise.

‘
And meself Lord?’
Rikka asked jealously. ‘What part am I to play in this
plan?’

None yet,
the Emperor
replied.
You will go and find
a village in Lairkland. I expect you to execute the deaths of as
many souls that you can feed to me. My strength needs to grow in
preparation. Chaos will shock this slumbering world. Go do my
bidding,
the voice echoed in
her head.
You and your seed
have served me well thus far. My revenge on the race of creatures
who seek to detain me in this damnation, is near.

As her Master withdrew his
Mindtalk, Rikka toppled off the large boulder and hit the cold hard
floor with a painful thud on her brittle bones.

Where was that stupid oaf, she
wondered? Closing her wrinkly eyelids she recalled the corpulent
image of her son so she could Mindtalk him to hurry, their journey
was to begin at last.

Fedros awoke abruptly with a
sensation of angry bees buzzing around in his head and devouring
his brain. Recognising the unpleasant familiar touch of his mother
stabbing at his wits with Mindtalk, he had no desire to listen to
her ramblings. He thought drearily that it must be time to return
and rolled heavily on to his side to ready himself for standing up.
Unsteadily, he retraced his way back, forgetting completely why he
had come here in the first place.

Rikka greeted him with a look of
surprise. ‘Where’s the wood ye lout?’

‘Wha... Oh yeah, I had some but
lost it when I saw a dragon flying over me,’ he lied, perfectly
aware that he had forgotten to collect any, in his sleepy
state.

‘It’s as well that I don’t need it
then, for your sake, is it not?’ she leered.

‘So you sent me, knowing I had to
melt under that hot sun, for nothing,’ his temper
flared.

‘No, you fool. Of course I needed
the wood then, but the Master has now given me new instructions.’
Rikka was eager to move on. ‘Seeing as ye have already rested, I
suggest that we set off now so that we can get the Master’s plot in
motion.’

‘It might help if you let me know
the details of this plot, if I‘m to take part, that is?’

‘Ye are indeed. The Master wants
you to administer this poison to a guard at the human palace,’ she
informed him.

‘Why poison? Why not just murder
him, if he’s in our way?’ Fedros asked, unsure why his Master was
being so cautious.

‘Our Master seeks to be discreet,
so it must appear to be an illness. No suspicions are to be raised.
The guard in question protects one of the nobles while he sleeps
and ye are to replace this guard and secure yer position in his
duties. This Prince is of importance to our Master, so mind ye
behave,’ Rikka warned her bloodthirsty son, aware that nothing
cheered him more than a killing.

Chapter 2 A Festival
Murder

T
hey had little in the
way of packing. The road had long been their home and a staple diet
of dried meat, rye bread and cheese. Sometimes stopping in hamlet
villages, Rikka befriended the villagers with the pretense of being
a gentle herb nurse and midwife. This always worked well, the poor
relied much on charity and kindness. Rikka lured them, Fedros
murdered them, and using the skill of mind possession, their Master
consumed their innocent souls by capturing the strand of life as it
left the dead body. He had a particular delight for the young,
these were of sweeter and stronger essence.

Rikka guessed it would take two
moonwakes to get to the nearest village at the base of the
mid-mountain range. With only a sad old bony mule to carry their
meagre rations, they set off. Neither of them attempted to ride the
mule through the rocky hills, it was as cantankerous as the old
woman. That was probably why they had both accepted it. Any
creature with a mean streak was considered an ally.

Descending the bleak rocky slopes, they passed by shadowy
gloomy caves cutting into the hillsides. All three, weary with
aches and pains, silently agreed to stop and make camp in a small
damp enclave where a busy bubbling brook trickled out its contents
from a hidden fissure in the solid ground. With an early start at
the next moonwake, they should arrive at the deep valley that cuts
down the centre of two large barren mountain sides, where lose grey
slates always threaten to landslide. Centuries ago, icy rivers had
flowed
down these valleys and
giant rocks transferred like rolling pebbles from the upper
regions. Some had been moved, even further back in history when the
lands had experienced violent volcanic eruptions. The huge boulders
scattered on the valley floor would hide them well and shade them
from the burning sun.

On the second moonwake, their final
camp was settled between the strange neat rows of oddly shaped
giant boulders. The immense rocks appeared as giant tables whereby
an upper top-heavy flat stone strangely balanced on a long thin
stone leg. The worn out leg must have suffered constantly at the
grating and grinding of swirling bits of stinging gravel, eating
away at the under portion.

The bubbling brook they had
encountered earlier had now formed itself into a small stream
gushing quickly by, creating a white frothy surface. Close by on a
yellowed grassy embankment wild goats bleated at their presence and
ran, scattering themselves then rejoining into a small herd as
protection from the intruders. The mule brayed at the noisy
bleating of the goats. Fedros grudgingly fed the animal a small bag
of oats. Rikka lit a small cooking fire by the stream and began to
boil water.

‘Fedros,’ she hollered, ‘take the
net and catch us fish fer supper. I’m fed up with trying to make
meals of salted pork.’

‘We could always have a bit of
mule meat,’ Fedros retorted, preferring to kill the animal than
bothering to wade through the water for a slimy fish. ‘We have no
use of him any longer.’

‘I do believe yer serious ye lazy,
idle oaf.’ Rikka’s patience wore thin. ‘I want fish. Go. Maybe I’ll
cook your hide instead. There’s plenty of fat on ye to last me a
year.’

‘All right, I’m going,’ he
mumbled, not really intent on eating mule anyway but only seeking
to stir up his mother’s temper. He did quite fancy a bit of fish
but he did not, however, wish to do anything that she asked without
first causing her some grief. ‘Fish, it will be.’

After the fish supper, they settled
to sleep. They would arrive at the first village on the next
moonwake.

It was blazingly hot when they arrived at the village of
Sabdros to find the residents hanging brightly coloured cloth
decorations on
trees and in
windows, with the laughter and merriment of a joyous
occasion.

The large village boasted three
inns. Most of the visiting pig farmers would stay with kinfolk so
the inns were not full. Rikka entered the opened doorway of a
crooked slate built inn whilst Fedros led the mule to an adjoining
stable.

‘Hey, stable boy,’ he yelled at a
skinny lad mucking out the end paddock. ‘What’s all the fuss for in
this village?’

‘It’s the time of the Matanza
Festival. I have a whole half of the moonwake off from my work
duties to go and join in the fun,’ the boy replied, giddy with
excitement.

‘What is Matanza then boy?’ Fedros
asked in his ignorance.

‘The Festival of the Pigs.’ The
boy looked at him puzzled. ‘You are not familiar with the ways of
the local people. We are pig farmers and this is our largest market
and slaughter for this suncirle. Are you not here as a
trader?’

‘No.’ Fedros answered abruptly,
not wanting to further the conversation. ‘Take the mule. I’ll
collect him later. I think I may stay for this Mantaza
thing.’

‘You’ll enjoy it.’ The boy seemed
sure of himself. ‘Though if your of a weakened stomach you may not
like all the blood and squealing of the pig slaughter.’

‘Surely that’s the best part boy,’
he suddenly appeared cheery and laughed callously.

As Fedros turned to go and leave
the mule, the boy watched him cautiously, feeling a little relieved
that the man was leaving his stable. Most people enjoyed the
competitions and the pig races and all the fun things, not many
took pleasure in the slaughter part. Everyone enjoyed the feast of
pork at the moonsleep meal, smelling the lingering aroma of the
savoury meats roasting on spits over large open fires and chewing
through the crispy crackling that would be cut into small pieces so
all could savour the salty flavour. That was his favourite
part.

He looked at the mule, as if this
dumb animal could provide him with some answers as to its unkindly
owner who had not even bothered to leave him a small tip of
coin.

Fedros entered the quiet darkness
of the inn, breathing in the stench of damp stale straw that
littered the dusty stone floor. In one corner, a trader plied a
local farmer with ale, listening to him brag about his grand
hog.

‘Aye, he is a fierce creature,’
the farmer merrily boasted. ‘I need two Hands with me when I enter
his pen.’

‘Will you sell him for the right
price before the show?’ the trader counted coins to tempt the
drunken farmer.

‘I can’t do that,’ the farmer came
to his senses. ‘He’s going to win me more coins than you could ever
offer, just you wait and see.I might consider trading him after the
show. You could fatten him up for the next festival, but he’s a
fierce one mind.’

The trader waved him away realising
this farmer was not to be duped.

Fedros approached his mother seated
on a stone bench at the side of a small misshapen wooden table. The
table wobbled as he knocked the corner with his portly belly, in an
effort to sit on a mangy looking bench. He waited to hear her
whining voice.

‘Clumsy oaf,’ she
mumbled.

Constant travel wore at her bones.
A long sleep indoors would be most welcome to her ageing
body.

They ate a warm supper of pork
broth followed by creamy cheeses and freshly baked bread with warm
mulled wine. Eating their fill, they climbed the creaky wooden
stairs to their shared room where Rikka opened the door and laid
her weary body under a coarse blanket that covered a lumpy straw
mattress. Fedros was not yet ready for his bed. He unpacked dirty
clothing to air it out on a rickety chair back. Leaving his mother
snoring in her sleep, he left the room to walk around the village
and sample the local brew of ale and hospitality of the local
girls.