Guardian Dragons (4 page)

‘I am partial to a little of the
strong stuff,’ the old soldier gave in reluctantly, with a wide
almost toothless grin. ‘It’s the cherry aniseed, it strengthens the
old bones. Yes, my friend. Join us and bring your liquor. But only
a wee nip, mind.’

Leaving the two dealing the cards
he returned to his bunk to pour drinks.

‘Here comrades,’ he returned
somewhat jovially, passing the taller tumbler to the old soldier.
‘I have poured you a little extra on accounting of your age and the
long night’s duty ahead.’

‘Well, I shouldn’t have too much
but my achy bones could do with a quick warming. Thanks to ya, me
friend. This should get me through the night.’

The newcomer cunningly allowed the
old soldier to win his coins in this dull game that they
shared.

‘I likes yer liquor, but I likes
yer silver better,’ the old soldier sniggered, discharging bubbly
spittle and exposing brown stained teeth, as he packed the cards
away.

‘What goes around, comes around,’
the newcomer implied, feigning a look of misery at his
losses.

‘I’m off anyways,’ he informed his
two gaming partners. ‘I gots me duty to attend to. See you all in
the moonwake.’

All wished him a peaceful shift and
he left the barracks to begin his moonsleep duty of guarding the
Prince. The two remaining soldiers parted, moving to their beds but
only one of them smiled smugly at his private triumph.

The old soldier approached the
noble's chambers, rubbing his belly to try to rid himself of a
griping pain. Other guards, also posted on moonsleep duty, stood
outside various chamber doors. None would communicate with the
other; they worked in a silent co-operation, whilst their charges
slept in safety from any intruders that may happen to gain access
to the palace private quarters.

A small table and chair waited at
the far end of the corridor for the guards to take turns in having
a break. All eyes would watch their door as each rested from this
wearisome duty. The old soldier had already had his turn but needed
desperately to rest again, a cold sweat on his brow slithered a wet
streak down his cheek. No other complained when he took an extra
break, he was respected amongst the ranks. Removing his hat, he
wiped his bony bald head with a forest-green necktie and unfastened
the top button of his uniformed jacket. He could feel his throat
constricting and swelling as if the gap for breathing was getting
smaller. Pulsating cramps continued to squeeze in his stomach. A
burning in his throat choked the breath from his lungs. Falling
from the chair with numbed legs, a heavy pain throbbed on the
insides of his arms and over the bone of his chest. He burned up,
yet shivered uncontrollably. The guard posted nearest to the
resting table ran to assist him. He found the old man lying on the
floor trembling with a grey pallor to his cold clammy
skin.

‘Quickly,’ he alerted the other
guards. ‘Get the Healer. I think Samuel’s dying.’

The newly appointed soldier lay in
his bed, expecting a commotion to start up any moment within the
barracks. He sat up; others remained under their blankets not
wanting to be disturbed after their arduous moonwake
duties.

‘You!’ the sergeant shouted.‘New
fellow. Get dressed. I need you to take over guard duty for Prince
Leon. The usual guard has been taken ill and no one else is
stirring. Look sharp man, I want you there, now!’

He stirred from his bed groggily,
keeping pretense that he was still sleepy. The sergeant marched out
to attend the Sickness Quarters. Fedros hid his smile of content
that all was going to plan.

The next moonwake Fedros arrived
back in the barracks from his new duty. The men mourned quietly at
the death of the old soldier. He had succeeded with his Master’s
instructions.

Chapter 5 Feeding of
Souls

T
he women in Lumberly
were overjoyed at the arrival of a new
herb nurse and midwife and none could believe that all
she asked in return for her services was a bed and some small
scraps of food on her table. Too long had they relied on good luck
whenever illness had struck or the women laboured with birth. If
she had saved Pedros’s prize ewe, then that was good enough for
them. She was quickly accepted and welcomed then shown to a rickety
one-room log cabin. Every family visited her, giving small gifts of
food which they could ill afford, as they each proudly introduced
themselves and their offspring.

Three moonwakes after her arrival
she felt reassured by her Master’s praises in her success at, once
again, fooling the foolish that she was to be their
saviour.

‘
I ‘ave a human birth
due in the next few moonwakes Master,’ Rikka spoke loudly to the
Emperor.

Deliver this one safely old woman,
he instructed.
I
can take its soul later. Continue to gain their
trust.

Rikka laughed with a searing high-pitched cackle, quietly
relieved that it was the babes he wanted to devour and not her. She
had no remorse for the part she played. If her Master needed
strength, she was grateful to be the
one to provide his food. If the people had been stronger willed,
then her Master would not be able to possess their minds, a
Monshaad can only prey on the feeble minded.

Just as she had finished talking
with her Master, a loud pounding rattled at her door. She was not
startled, it was an expected visitor. Her Master had informed her
that a young soul was about to become available, that shouldn’t
raise any suspicions.

Shainston the baker knocked
frantically.

‘Quickly herb nurse, quickly!’ The
baker was eager for her to answer his pleas.

‘What is it, that ye disturb me in
such a manner with all yer thumping an’ yer yellin’?’ she asked of
the man panting at her open door.

‘My son, Rikka, he ... he’s had a
nasty fall from a tall tree.’ Shainston paused to breath. ‘We were
smoking a bee’s nest for the honey and he lost his footing. Come,
come quickly old woman, make haste to my home please.’ Shainston
was relieved that the village now had a healer.

As they hurried through the dirt
tracks nearing towards the boy’s home, the baker calmed himself,
his speech becoming more coherent.

‘My son is conscious Rikka,’ he
informed her trustingly. ‘We fear he may have a broken bone in his
arm.’

‘I thought he was dying with all
the noise ye were creating!’ Rikka responded, mockingly.

‘No, no herb nurse,’ he explained.
‘He’s in terrible pain but I don’t believe his life is
threatened.’

Rikka said no more. Her Master
would be displeased, he had intended the fall he had caused to be
life threatening.

‘My lad’s used to climbing up to
the honey bees,’ the baker informed her proudly. ‘He complains that
a voice in his head tried to make him jump out of the tree. Have
you ever heard such nonsense? I hope you can make sense of his
ramblings herb nurse. I fear he has also bumped his
head.’

Arriving at the home of the baker,
she ordered the gathered neighbours out of the room, with the
exception of the parents.

Quickly she began to inspect the
child’s bones and head whilst chanting in a language neither parent
could understand.

‘Can you help him Rikka?’ the
mother asked worriedly.

‘Quiet!’ Rikka spat back sharply.
She was concentrating on her Master’s instructions whilst chanting
a spell to put the boy to sleep. Soon her Master would take hold of
this child’s lifeline and her chanting would make it easier for him
to consume the soul, through her. In a bleary-eyed trance, she
continued to chant and the boy became limp in her arms. The parents
rushed to take their son from the old woman.

‘What has happened to my boy?’ the
baker cried. ‘He had only a broken bone I am sure.’

‘Nonsense,’ Rikka managed to snap,
although weakened by the deed she had performed for her Master. ‘He
has internal injuries and I am trying to locate ‘em. Bleeding from
his liver, he is. It’s torn in the fall.’

‘No!’ the mother screamed, shocked
at this sudden change in her son. ‘He was awake. I spoke to him. He
said his arm was hurting. How could this be?’

‘He also said he heard voices in
‘is head, is that not so?’ Rikka used this information to her
advantage. ‘He was dying, woman. A boy cannot fall that far without
damage to his body. Even I could not have saved him and I have
saved many a life.’

Rikka left the mother sobbing
loudly, embracing her son’s limp body. The father wept on bended
knees, his heart broken as he clung on to his wife and lost child.
Rikka smiled. A small meal for her Master, many more to
come.

Chapter 6 A New
Guard

T
he Royal Family of
Lairkland reside in the Golden Pyramid Palace of Beldroth. Unlike
other structures in the city, this has no whitewash to reflect the
sun’s rays. Built many generations ago, originally constructed from
yellowed sandstone with golden dust embedded within the bricks.
Standing boldly, it emanates a bright golden glow that should
strain the eyes of any that look upon it. Instead, with the help of
magic, it gleams a beautiful yellowed shimmering radiance. It is
truly a glorious building, befit for any sovereign
ruler.

A vast network of darkened
corridors and chambers, tunnel underneath the palace structure
creating a subterranean level that houses the kitchens and the
servants’ quarters. Many of the older dustier passageways remain
unused and no one really knows the full extent of all these
chambers that run under the city. The cool darkness below also
serves as a shadowed escape from the constant heat of the sun
above.

The ground level of the building constitutes of the bottom
step of a pyramid shaped structure. This is the largest floor on
the surface, boasting beautiful stained glass windows that brighten
hallways leading on to huge rooms used for galas, balls and public
meetings. Each further level composes of further smaller gradiated
steps of a pyramid contour. These floors are the chambers of the
private quarters for the Royal Family and other guests. On
these
levels, inbuilt into
thick stone slabs, are narrow slits that allow the sun’s rays to
invade the rooms with bright lines of white light. The apex of the
pyramid is a roofless level. An intricate network of tall golden
lattice fence posts surround the upper gardened terrace as the
pinnacle to the pyramid silhouette. Here the Upper Gardens boast
spraying water fountains with seating and tables for leisure and
relaxation. Central to the Upper Gardens stands a glasshouse that
protects an exotic array of unusual plants and flowers. The
glasshouse is roofed with a bronzed glass that creates the pointed
peak of the pyramid. A warm yellow sunlight shines in on the
outlandish indoor floral garden. This magical conservatory is a
favourite of the youngest Prince Raphael, who loves the damp heat
and the strong aroma of the unusual blooms where strange
butterflies hover from petal to leaf. He spends many a time in this
spectacular garden with his grandmother who equally shares an
interest in this colourful environment. Every level of the whole
formation is easily accessible by spiraling stone stairways
within.

* * *

In the private chambers of the palace, the residents
stir
themselves with sleepy
heads, readying themselves for a new moonwake.

Prince Leon, upon awakening,
remembers his promise to Heather. A thin cork shutter covers the
opened narrow windows of his sleeping chambers, to keep his room
darkened. A slight breeze brushes his cheeks as he pops his head
out of a weightless fluffy woolen blanket, the moonsleeps could be
as cold as the moonwakes could be hot. Slowly he becomes aware of
the rest of his body and tosses his blanket aside to stretch his
warm supple limbs in the cooled air.

Outside Prince Leon’s chambers, Fedros is positioned as the
new guard. He dislikes this tedious duty but this was the only way
that his Master could gain the access he needed to spy upon the
Prince. Unable to enter the Prince’s strong willed mind, the
Emperor used Fedros’s mind skills to observe the boy. Whilst the
Prince had slept, Fedros had sneaked in to explore the chambers. It
suddenly dawned on him that he had not turned off the oil lamp,
which he
had lit at a low
level so as not to bump into anything and create a noise. Keenly
eavesdropping at the muffled noises of the Prince’s movements, he
decided it was too late to sneak back inside and prepared himself
for the opening of the door. Shifting uncomfortably on his large
stubby legs, he attempts to shake out the cold stiffness in his
limbs, a result of this inactive duty in this glum candlelit
corridor. Scratching, with dirtied fingernails, he rubs at his
unshaven prickly chin, feeling considerably irritated. Others were
also stirring in their chambers and the corridor was starting to
brighten as doors opened and closed again, to let maids in and
residents out.