The Powterosian War (Book 5) (46 page)

At Saxthor’s direction, the dragon landed gracefully near the entrance to the mountain lair. Saxthor dismounted and approached the lone, shivering young man standing at the entrance, staring out but seeing nothing.

“Who are you?” Saxthor asked. “I’ve seen you somewhere before I think.”

“I’m … I’m Dregaclese, son of Smegdor of Konnotan,” the young man said, then his blank face looked at Saxthor.

“Where is the vile sorcerer? He has taken refuge here somewhere. I must confront him, man to man, and be done with his evil.”

“He’s dead.”

“You’re certain he’s dead?”

“It was my father that grabbed him and hurled them both into the Well of Souls in the base of this cursed mountain.” Dreg dropped his head.

“How did you come to be here in this foul place?”

“I came…it’s a long story, it wouldn’t interest you.”

“You’re certain the Dark Lord is dead?”

“Yes, Dragon Lord.”

“We must take you back home with us.”

Dreg smiled at the kindness, apparently seeing Saxthor for the first time. He bowed.

“And who might you be, Sir Dragon Rider?”

“King Saxthor from Konnotan, don’t you recognize me if you are from our capital?”

Dreg dropped to his knees prostrate in the grimy snow on the ledge. “Forgive me, Majesty, it has been a long time. I seldom got to see royalty in my former life in Konnotan. You are so much more regal than I remember. Your Majesty was gone a long time. Have mercy.”

“No offense taken, Dregaclese. We are sorry that you lost your brave father.”

Saxthor sensed the young man’s grief like a knife wound, remembering the loss of his own parents. He held Dreg to him, patting his back. Dreg hesitated, then slowly wrapped his arms around the emperor-king. Warmth rippled through Saxthor, renewing something deep inside from his youth with his parents. He felt Dreg’s pain and a tear fall on his shoulder.

I sense no one has ever shown him compassion in his entire life before his father’s surprise sacrifice, Saxthor thought. Dreg released Saxthor and stood back.

“Forgive my forwardness, Majesty.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Dregaclesee, you must come with me to the palace. I think we shall find a place for you at court. The world owes your father and you a great reward. Is there no one left here?”

“There’s the witch. I think she must still be in the dragon stables above.”

“The witch?”

“Witch Earwig… I came here with her before I realized how she used me, before my father showed me kindness I’d never known before.”

Saxthor looked up the slope, following the path to the stables. He shook his head, “She now lives in the stables?”

“Yes, Majesty, she is the dragon keeper there. She cleans the stalls, lugs in the orc bodies, and shovels out the bones and dung.” Dreg looked at the dead Ozrin nearby. “There’re no more dragons now; he was the last. Your awesome beast is the finest I’ve ever seen.”

Saxthor caught sight of movement rushing up the mountain trail; it was Memlatec.

When the great wizard approached the two men, he studied Dreg carefully. “Who is this young man and how did he come to be here?”

“Long story Memlatec; this is Dregaclesee son of Smegdor of Konnotan. He assures me the Dark Lord is dead now.” Memlatec’s face scrunched in skepticism. “His father grabbed the evil king and the two fell into the Well of Souls. Is that right Dreg?”

“Yes, Majesty,” Dreg said, bowing to Saxthor then to Memlatec.

Memlatec’s eyes studied the young man, searching through him for something. Then the great wizard reached out his long fingers, touching tips to Dreg’s head. The wizard closed his eyes, reading the young man like a book. He then looked into the lair’s entrance down the dark shaft, as if seeing its very foundation.

“What’s this Well of Souls, Memlatec?” Saxthor asked.

“A gate into Doom, that’s all you need to know. I must seal this mountain for all time. You’d better leave now.” With that Memlatec left the two men and walked with deliberate steps into the Munattahensenhov’s depths. Before long, there was a massive rumbling deep under the mountain that shook the stone beneath the two men. Rocks tumbled down the slope. Part of the mountain’s icy cloak broke loose, cascading down not far from them.

“Come Dregaclesee, time we left the evil within this mountain.” With that, Saxthor leapt up on Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s toe. The claw rose, depositing the emperor on the golden neck. Staring up with enormous eyes at the massive beast, Dreg stepped forward and hesitated. Six foot claws gently plucked up Dreg and placed him behind Saxthor on the dragon’s neck. Then Yamma-Mirra Heedra flew up and circled the mountain that continued to rumble, throwing up flames, plumes of smoke, and ash. The mountain began to crumble and implode into itself.

“Shouldn’t we help the wizard?” Dreg asked. Saxthor laughed.

“Rescue Memlatec, he’ll love that… I think Memlatec will find his way out and rejoin us shortly.”

“And Witch Earwig, what of her?” Dreg asked.

“She worked so hard to get there; we’ll leave her there in her stables if they survive Memlatec’s destruction.”

With that the trio flew off back to the army on the Dreaddrac plain.

When Saxthor and Dreg dismounted, Yamma-Mirra Heedra began shrinking as the tension that activated him dissolved. The golden dragon shrank until, as a tiny beast, he jumped into Saxthor’s hand and curled himself around Saxthor’s finger. He transformed once again back into the celestial blue crystal in the golden dragon ring.

* * *

The armies of the peninsula returned to their respective states to rebuild and renew. Duke Jedrac of Hador then traveled with King Grekenbach back to Graushdem. King Ahkenspec and his Memtahhamin elves, the Grand Imperial Army, and the Neuyokkasinian army journeyed back down the peninsula to Konnotan. There Saxthor sat on his throne in the Helshian Court Palace grand audience hall before this most august assembly. The cream of the Neuyokkasinian nobility convened there, awed by the presence of so many royals and magnates from across their world as never before assembled in one great hall. Emperor Saxthor issued decrees, granted requests in return for services to the kingdom, acknowledged bravery and unity in the war, and generally began the demobilization of the army back to their farms, businesses, and lives before the Great War.

The imperial generals grew restless after weeks of this. “Your Imperial Majesty,” the senior imperial general said at the conclusion of court one day. “As you have wound up your affairs here in Neuyokkasin, it must surely be time to journey to Engwaniria to take your place on the imperial throne. You should undergo the coronation as emperor. Your majesty must realize the empire is anxious to know its new emperor. Your presence is necessary to ensure stability through this transition to a new emperor and empire. The longer you delay, the more likely conspiracies and other claimants to the throne are to arise. For your majesty’s subjects’ sake, we, your generals, beseech you to journey to Engwaniria without further delay.”

Saxthor looked to Memlatec and Chatra Lemnos, to Bodrin and Tonelia. He looked down at Delia, lying patiently by the throne. She looked up at him, then rose wagging her tail. Memlatec nodded agreement.

“So be it. We shall leave for Engwaniria in a fortnight.”

*

In the royal apartments’ reception room two weeks later, Saxthor sat talking with Bodrin. Only the draperies’ gentle undulations by the balcony doors disturbed the calm in the room.

“We lived our lives to fight that war with little hope of winning it,” Bodrin said. He rose and went to the pitcher on the side table, looking for a plate or bowl of snacks, then sighed and frowned at the lack of any. “And now you’re king of Neuyokkasin, king of Dreaddrac, and emperor of the Powteros Empire as well.”

“Yes, emperor,” Saxthor said. “I’m not so sure I’m prepared for such a responsibility.”

“You weren’t sure you were prepared to be King of Neuyokkasin either, but what a king you turned out to be.”

Saxthor rose and walked to the balcony where the stars beamed in the clear night. Bodrin joined him there, looking out over the lights of Konnotan, where his subjects cooked their dinners. There was laughter in the streets and music from several quarters.

“They are happy, again at peace,” Saxthor said.

“Yes, and out beyond the walls are the encampments of the imperial army, your imperial army. They, too, must miss their homes and families. They rejoice at their preparations to leave in the morning for Engwaniria.”

“I leave Konnotan and Neuyokkasin in your care, Bodrin. Govern it well. Listen to our old mentor and tutor Tournak. He’s served us long and faithfully. His elfin ancestry will help too. These are our people. My family rests in their tombs under your care.”

A knock at the door broke their conversation. Memlatec entered.

“Good of you to join us, Memlatec,” Saxthor said. “I’m greatly relieved that you will join me on the journey to Engwaniria. I shall need your constant advice and guidance.”

“Your Imperial Majesty no longer needs my guidance,” Memlatec said.

Huffing and puffing, Belnik knocked and entered the room, holding a tray piled high with food and a large vessel of drink.

“I was worried you might dry up and blow away before I could get here, General Vicksnak, or do I call you Governor Vicksnak now?”

“Lord Governor General Vicksnak will do,” Bodrin said. Emperor, governor, and wizard cracked up laughing. Belnik gave Bodrin a scrunched face stare and put down the tray. Bodrin was selecting a piping hot slab of meat before the feast settled on the table.

“Tomorrow morning after sunrise, I should like to visit the royal tombs once more before going on to Engwaniria,” Saxthor said, his tone somber. “Don’t be alarmed at my absence, Belnik.”

“I shall accompany your majesty to the gates of our ancestors,” Belnik said offhand, cleaning up a scrap of meat that fell from the tray when Bodrin filled his plate.

“Our ancestors?” Bodrin repeated. Belnik turned red. Bodrin and Saxthor stared at him, their faces frozen in the question.

“What did that mean?” Saxthor asked, his eyes fixed on his valet.

“A stupid slip of the tongue, Majesty. Please forgive such a stupid mistake.” The valet looked away and hurried from the room with the prior tray and its crumbs.

Bodrin watched Saxthor follow Belnik with his eyes as he left. There’s more than the slip of a tongue here, he thought. Saxthor senses it too. Both men looked at Memlatec, who knew what their expressions asked.

“Belnik is your cousin,” Memlatec said to Saxthor. He was born by the mistress of one of your ancestors’ sibling. When you returned from your adventure, your father asked me to select someone we could totally trust to watch over you as you came to power. Your father never knew of Belnik’s heritage, though I did. Belnik knew; it had been his family’s closely guarded secret. He was, and is, totally devoted to you as his cousin Saxthor. You are the secret pride of his family.”

Saxthor and Bodrin sank into the chairs behind them.

“How can my cousin be my valet? Surely he expects more in life as a royal.”

“He was not born royal, and revealing his heritage would darken his name. It has been his delight to serve you. Allow him his pride and do not reveal you know of this.”

“Nothing is as it seems, is it?” Saxthor said.

*

The next morning as the city awakened and began last minute preparations for the Emperor’s journey to Engwaniria with the Grand Imperial Army, Saxthor and Belnik rode quietly to the royal tombs. Belnik stood by the horses as Saxthor walked to the gates. Saxthor hesitated, then turned back to Belnik. “Tie the horses and come with me,” Saxthor said.

Belnik seemed jittery; he fumbled with the reins trying to tie them off. Finally, he stumbled to the gates and, walking behind his emperor, he followed Saxthor inside the great enclosure beneath the moss covered oaks.

“Come along Belnik, no need to follow me. Walk beside me.” Belnik looked at Saxthor, his face slightly askew, but then he walked up next to Saxthor and they proceeded down the avenue through the great marble mausoleums on each side.

Saxthor told Belnik about each ancestor they passed as they stopped at each tomb. He spoke quietly to each antecedent, telling them of his exploits and the state of the kingdom restored. Belnik listened but said nothing until they passed one not so elaborate tomb set back from the crowned members that lined the avenue. Belnik held back there, staring at the tomb in the shadows. As they moved on, Saxthor saw Belnik nod to the grave when he thought Saxthor wasn’t looking.

As they came to Saxthor’s mother’s tomb, ‘Queen Eleatsubetsvyertsin’ was prominently carved into the marble. Saxthor kneeled and spoke in a whisper to his mother. Belnik walked on a distance giving the king privacy with his mother and father. Then they continued his tour of the tombs, pointing out this and that about the various family members. As they returned to the gates, Saxthor turned back, scanning the enclosure for a last time before going on to the empire.

“Do you think they would have been proud?” Saxthor asked his cousin.

“I think they would have been most proud indeed,” Belnik responded.