Dragon Hunters Chapter 3

“Mistress, the dragons have been driven into the Valley of Naargas.” Pietro’s words bounced off of the stone walls of the narrow entranceway amplifying his voice. Startled at his own insolence -even if unintended- he shrank back to the doorway he had just passed through to make his announcement.

“I know,” came the soft yet powerful voice from the shadows of the chamber.

The low glow of a candle from within produced little light so he squinted his eyes, trying to force them to adjust. He could hear the faint scratching of a quill being drawn across parchment and the smell of burning sage filled his nose.

“They had to be pushed somewhere and Naargas is as good a place as any.”

“But Mistress, the people of Naargas did not rebel against---”

“Then perhaps they should have fought harder against those that did!”

Pietro shrank even further into the doorway, now almost completely out of the room. “Of course, mistress. Forgive me. My only fear is that with the people of Naargas being a more peaceful sort, will your plan still succeed? Was it not the people of Ranees who were to face the scourge of dragons?”

The dim candlelight was eclipsed for just a moment and, with his eyes accustomed to the darkness, his mistress came into view. At first it was no more than the flutter of a robe in the shadows, but as she moved closer the silver strands threading through the black in her robes glimmered and swayed, reflecting the light bleeding in from the hall.

Emerging from the shadows, Mistress Valady approached her trembling servant. “You lack imagination my loyal friend. Dragons cannot be controlled, so we will control what we can. We will control the peoples fear.” Beneath her robes she subconsciously caressed the letter she had written. “With the coming of the dragons, the Naargasians will scatter in fear. Some will go south to Ranees, but most will seek refuge in the great city of Capsilas.”

“Capsilas? But they are the ones who…” Pietro’s words would not come as he watched his mistress coming ever so closer; the light from the hall was now touching the hem of her robes and rising with each step she took. Averting his eyes for fear her face be exposed, Pietro stared at the ground. Only when she stopped, just before the light reached her chin did he dare look up.

“They will be welcomed there with open arms, of course…at first,” she said smiling to herself, enjoying the discomfort others often felt when she graced them with her countenance.

“Mistress?”

“I can hear them now,” she said closing her eyes, allowing the image in her mind to clear the mist of her outer senses. “Look to our own, they will say. There is not enough to go around, they will cry, and all the while their leaders will yield to the people’s baser instincts.”

“You mean to sew hatred among the common folk?” He watched as the hooded shadow nodded. “But how does that help us Mistress? How can the hatred of one people for another further your---”

“Because when Ranees see how the great and righteous people of Capsilas choke on their own hypocrisy they will feel emboldened to hate along with them.”

“They will hate us as well.”

“Hatred is our currency now.”

Pietro took a cautious step forward, genuinely intrigued. “If they hate us, how will you manage to unite them all under your rule?”

“When all have suffered to the point where their fear of loss turns to hate, when they blame not only those they consider not their own, but their leaders as well for their lack of strength then you will see. When the people lose faith in those they have trusted to protect them from hunger, from bandits, and from the loss of their very identity, then I will save them.”

“Save them Mistress?”

“I will show them prosperity, I will show them strength, and I will keep them safe and in so doing I will remind them of the greatness that was the Valadian empire.”

“Truly Mistress, the greatness of your forebears lives in your---” Pietro saw the movement and knew he had no hope to evade. His body tensed and his eyes closed just before he felt it.

Mistress Valady’s hand let go of the letter at the mention of her forebears and snatched the smaller of the two bags attached to her tasseled belt. It was hurtling toward Pietro’s chest before he could cry out for mercy.

The bright flash was soundless, but Pietro was thrown back through the door and into the stone wall across the hall.

Mistress Valady stepped slowly through the door and the shadows melted away. “My Grandfather was too weak to quell the rebellion that he allowed to fester before his wine-soaked eyes. My mother and father? They were too frightened to take back what was rightfully theirs.”

Pietro looked up from the floor to which he had fallen, his eyes taking in the tattered robes of his Mistress until his gaze rose to see the face he had loved like a daughter since the day of her birth. The beauty of her silver eyes was haunting and cold, so much so that one would almost forget the scars that ravaged the right side of her face, the burns so terrible that the glorious white hair she was gifted with would not grow there. Often, she would turn the length of her hair over to cover the scarring, but her rage had exposed it, as well as Pietro’s shame.

“Forgive me Mistress, after… they felt they could not protect you if…” Pietro’s placed his head on the cold stone floor at the feet of the child he had failed to keep from the fires.

“Well, now I can protect myself.