The Darksmoke Tales

Prologue: Day Zero

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,” Aimen said that every time they got in our way. Unfortunately, I am reminding myself of that as I can literally feel the weight of their presence on me, I tried to calm myself as two of them restrained me by the neck and arms respectively. Fighting them would only work if I could get away, but sadly there was no escaping from them in the upper town square.

Those bastard dragons always seemed to muck up my best works. Ever since the Lord Elder Dragon Lance took over for his newly departed father, Ricard, they have only gotten worse. The “dragons” as Lance called his goons were in charge of keeping order and collecting tributes for all of the cities within Lance’s Kingdom. Of course, Dunway was no exception. Dunway as a community has always met the Lord Elder Dragon’s tribute, despite the times, so you would think his men would not care what we do amongst ourselves for coin.

Tragically, they care greatly.

After catching his breath from the chase, the heavier of the two dragons removed his hands from my neck. He positions his face so close to mine that I can smell the stale ale on his breath as he barks, “Boy, we are going to bind your hands. Do not resist. You understand?” Having no other options, I nod compliantly. The smaller and clearly younger of the two dragons starts binding my hands with rope. At this point my annoyance grows. Not due to the rope, I can slip out of those easily, the guards age and inexperience show in his knot making. No, being called ‘boy’ always irks me. I finally turn seventeen, yet everyone calls me ‘boy.’ I guess Van was right, my malnourished frame and inability to grow full facial hair do not aid me in my quest for recognizable manhood. Neither does my aversion to the drink.

After the younger dragon checked his knot work a few times, never improving it, more so just patting it. They stand me up. The younger one is behind me holding the end of my rope. The older, taller dragon stands in-front of me, sizing me up. He stood about a head taller than myself, and probably had about thirty years on me. He must have obtained whatever information he needed because he smirked. I looked down trying to avoid his gaze, I did not want my face to be too recognizable in case I was able to free myself. Suddenly, I felt myself get a slight shove from behind. It must have been time to walk, but to where? The stockades for this part of town were behind me. I proceed to protest, “I know my ri….,” that was all I could get out before the older dragon removed the sword from his sheath on his hips. A move that seems to ask, “Do you have anything else to say?” I decide that I like my head where it is, and start walking.

We walk for about fifteen minutes in silence. I have raced all of these streets so many times in my life, I do not need to look where we are going. We are en route to the barracks. The lodging for all of the dragons of the city, right outside of our main gate. I was warned by Aimen that if I was ever taken there, I should attempt to act like nobility from a much lower house, and demand to be released before my family sends word to the Lord Elder Dragon himself. Though sadly my, unwashed and uncombed black hair, ghostly thin frame, and recently torn pant leg does not aide to that deception. If I survived the barracks, Aimen would kill me for ruining my last decent pair of pants. Hopefully, Aimen gets his chance for justice.

After another ten minutes of silence, I know we are within spitting distance of the barracks, even at this slow rate of speed we could not be more than a few minutes away. My heart starts racing realizing that this is actually happening. I had hoped this was a prank or some kind of joke. I have known many people who have survived the barracks. However, very few of them have my track record, or were caught doing what I was accused of doing. I start looking all around trying to find many of the secret cutaways stashed throughout the city, or a friendly face to try and support my liberation. However, at this rate we were in the Highest Borne part of the city, near the city walls, most people that I associate with do not work this area during the day. My frantic searching must have alerted the dragon behind me because he whispered to me, “Do not do anything stupid. We will be at the barracks soon. Running again will just piss Geoff off more. Besides, the watch commander is in a good mood today, he has not ordered any be-headings. Just a flogging and two days in the stockades.”

I am not sure if that little pep talk was meant to inspire me into compliance or panic. At this point, he was succeeding at both simultaneously. I have survived floggings before. Never the stockade, but I am used to hunger. I try to slow my heart rate, breathing slowly in through my nose and out through my mouth. If I was to even attempt to be nobility, I should be more outraged than scared. Though, knowing that the dragon in-front of me was Sergeant Geoff reminded me that I should be more careful before enacting my money-making schemes. A green tunic overlaying light leather armor adorned with the black logo of a dragon meant Sergeants rank. Reflecting on that, I now see it all being worn by the man directing me to my sentence. Aimen always warned me keep my risk to, “yellows or lower,” the new recruits are usually too scared to do anything. However, a seasoned hand like Geoff would not have this weakness. Aimen would make sure that if they did not flog me for this, he would for my stupidity. I would actually prefer that to whatever this will do to Van’s ego. Van always told me that I was too careless. Constantly parenting me with such nuggets of wisdom as, “Your greed will get you killed,” and, “Your sloppiness will catch up to you sooner or later.” I guess Van would be proven right sooner than either of us thought.

As I am led towards the western drawbridge leading outside the city walls, I take a look back. I intend to breath in Dunway while I can. Everything that is before me is opulent. Large sprawling buildings, clean streets, fresh air merchants who fighting off the poor and starving masses, and trees. The only place to see trees is in the rich district. However, my heart lies beyond all of that to the eastern part of the city, the slums. Where everyone was a chump in someone else’s game, whether they knew it or not. It was take or be taken. It was anything but honest work, but it was all I knew. It was home.

I can hear the drawbridge creaking as it is lowers. That melancholy sound of wood that has been chopped down in order to serve others, away from where it grew. That is the only sound that could mimic what my heart feels now. My mind wants to wander to Aimen, Van, Otm, and…I cannot dwell on that. Just a second longer may make me unable to keep my own creaking inside.

The dragon holding my rope gently nudges me forward, the drawbridge must be down. With it, my fate is sealed.

We begin crossing as the rough air hits my face. The city walls usually block the wind but if this is the last time that I might get to feel the elements on my face, then I shall appreciate the raging winds outside of Dunway. For more than once they have propelled my sails when I did not deserve them.

I looked to the left of the end of the draw bridge. There is my fate. A barracks entrenched with a wall of sharp wooden pillars protecting it. The pillars must go twenty, twenty-five feet into the air. Yet, the closer I get, the larger they loo. As if the barracks is playing tricks on me. Suddenly it is looming so large that it is all I can see.

As I am led up to the front gate, I cannot imagine the strength it must take to close a wooden gate of this size. The force that it must contain within. Without warning Geoff yells, “Open up, I ain’t got all day.” In less than the time it took Geoff to finish that sentence the gate began to swing inward. Opening itself to us, as if taunting me to see what was contained within.

I am lead past battalions of yellows practice drills with their swords and their shields. Above each battalion is a blue barking orders. While the yellows seem to be acting in perfect unison, encouragement such as, “Do better maggots,” or, “Too slow, run it again babies,” can be heard all around me. Each battalion contains twenty-five men. I count nine battalions to my left and eight to my right, each with a blue level dragon overseeing their movements. Before Ricard’s death, Dunway barely had four functional battalions, I guess the rumors of Lance’s expansion efforts were more than mere speculation. Aimen and the others would not be happy about this new reality. Then reality creeps into my stomach, I feel the knots clench my core, they may not know for a while, and I may not be the one to tell them.

I am lead down the road separating the two sides of training troops. The path itself is barely wide enough for three men to walk shoulder to should, and only extends about five hundred feet forward before it begins reaching the rows of barracks. Behind them stands a large tower made entirely of red wood. In the light of the day it almost looks like a breath of fire shooting out of the ground, a fitting place for the Watch Commander for this branch of dragons to reside. The tower itself is at least a hundred feet high, and legend says that it took years to complete.

Upon reaching the bottom of the tower, Geoff turns to my other captor and says, “I will take it from here son. Go wait with the troops on the wall for the rest of battalion 4 to arrive.” The younger man hands Geoff the rope attached to my hands and takes his leave. I watch him go wishing that I could be leaving with him. I guess my eyes were lingering because I felt a slight tug on my bindings, I turn to see Geoff looking annoyed with me. In a stern and monotone voice, he growls, “Now that we are done looking at the recruits, onto business. What is your name boy?” Again with the ‘boy’, the irritation on my face should play well with pretending to be noble born, those prats get cross about everything, “I am the third son of the House of Stone, a rightful heir of Archibal….,” interrupting my speech, Geoff starts to laugh. After collecting himself from his laughter, Geoff with a wry smile let out, “Oh I needed that today, so thank you, but you are as much highborn as I am the sodding Lord Dragon himself. Now quit your stalling, if we have record of you fess up to it now and take your punishment. Again, give me your name.” There is no way Geoff should be able to know that I am not Marcus Stone of House Stone, if he had even let me get this far. Marcus was a recluse who fancied chamber maids and books more than he did social gatherings, or so his personal chambermaid told me. I know for a fact that I look like someone who enjoys women of ill repute and status. I have to try again, “Listen here, when my father hears about this…,” at this point Geoff kicks my right leg out from under me with his left, I fall to a knee. He puts his left boot on my chest, “Drop the act, I know you are the heir of the House of Shit and Fuck All. Last chance, either give me a name, or we do this the hard way.” In this moment, I decide to be daring with my life if this is to be the end of it. I choose silence.

Geoff gives me a few moments in which to reflect on my choice. I remain silent. After about a minute or so he rolls his eyes, “On your feet, we’re making the climb.” He assumes a new post behind me, allowing me to set the pace for the climb ahead. We walk in silence, not too quickly, since I still do not appreciate his ‘boy’ remarks and I am in no hurry to meet my fate. Approximately half-way up the tower we stop. There is a room guarded by four yellows all standing at perfect attention. Behind them are stacks and stacks of documents all being poured over by what look like city auditors and tribute collectors. I guess this is their record room. Under different circumstances, I would welcome the opportunity to enlighten myself with their information. I am sure it could be very profitable to me and my associates. Unfortunately, Geoff has no intentions of taking a detour. Geoff nods to the officers and we continue on our trek.

Upon arriving outside the top floor, we are stopped by two greens, behind them is a large door. The greens themselves are not uncommon as I doubt the watch commander would be protected by yellows. However, the door is unusual. It is not made of the same wood as the rest of the tower. It is darker, almost as dark as the night itself. If the tower was redeeming to look at just for its beautiful color, this door seems more like a portal to somewhere I do not want to be. The guards acknowledge Geoff and swing the door open. We stride into to an enclosed room all made from the same darker wood as the door, the room itself is devoid of any windows or natural light, instead being lit by a row of torches on either side. The room seems about twenty feet wide and approximately fifty feet long. I feel the slack of my ropes pull me backwards as we reach the center of the room. I guess we wait.

The only thing that can be seen in the torchlight is a long dark throne holding a large man wearing all red, the watch commander Rex, or as he is called to most of the town, Watch Commander Blood. I can vaguely make out what seems to be a door located behind Blood, but there is no time to focus on that. He is holding a goblet of wine almost of dark red as his armor. Given his status he no longer wears a tunic but rather studded leather armor, completely monochromatic, save for a black dragon in the center of his chest. He sips from his goblet while raising his head to beckon us closer. I must have hesitated because I feel a shove from behind encouraging my cooperating. I continue with my death march, the silence in the air hangs like I soon might.

Geoff pulls back on my restraints again maybe five feet short of Blood’s throne. Blood looks me over thoroughly. His eyes are cold, his gaze upon me sends a shiver up my spine, I resist the urge to squirm. Without warning Blood’s inspection has ended, he stares unblinking into my eyes. Whatever that is that sits before me is not a man, but a monster. I can sense his blood-lust from here. He raises his free hand, I can see what looks like a parchment or a scroll tucked in the sleeve. He uses that hand to push his silvery shoulder length hair back, revealing a jagged scar under his left eye, accenting their greenish hue. A wicked grin crosses his face, “Geoff, what have your brought to me today?” “Watch Comm…,” is all I can interrupt before I feel my knees kicked out beneath me. I crumble to the floor and realize this is a, ‘Speak when spoken to,’ situation.

Geoff from over my shoulder starts, “Commander, I bring this filth before you for his crime of attempting to con the sisters of Dunway. Apparently, they were going to trade all their gold for a stone statue of the late Lord Dragon Ricard. He claims to be a member of the House of Stone. Though he tried to flee when he made contact. If he is telling the truth may the new Lord Dragon smite me down where I stand.” The men share a chuckle at this. If there was a joke in there somewhere, I must have missed it.

Blood stares deeply into his goblet, still savoring whatever joke Geoff just told when he muses, “What is your defense boy?” I fight the annoyance within me, and try to hold it out from my tone, “Watch Commander Rex, there has been a grave and serious misunderstanding. My name is Marcus Stone, third son and a rightful heir of Archibald of the House of Stone…,” at this Blood raises his hand as if to silence me. He turns to the door and barks, “I am in need of more bloody wine.” He kills what remains in his cup as a green, one of the two from outside runs straight to his throne with a jug of wine. He refills Blood’s cup and then retreats, however, Blood leaves his hand up until his door is closed again. He smells his wine, a new sickly smile crosses his face before he lowers his hand, “I needed more wine if I was going to pretend to be interested in this farce. You can proceed,”

I am not sure what is allowing them to be so certain as to my deception. I have never run this ruse before, or even used this alias. The only thing I can do if focused on what about my story is accurate just like Aimen taught me, “The sister’s and I had reached a more than amicable deal. We even cut our fee, given their status, and my houses respect for the late Lord Dragon. In exchange for their payment, they were to receive a statue of the late Lord Dragon Ricard within a fortnight. As I told them, I needed payment in advance to cover travel and accommodation expenses for their purchase.” I may have omitted that the statue would not be twenty feet tall and made of solid stone, but rather one foot tall and made of wood that was painted to look like stone. Plus, this one payment would have covered my shipment of a hundred of these statues for other similar arraignments that I was going to make.

Blood leaves his throne to circle me, looking contemplative, maybe he bought it. I cannot press my luck; I have to let them fall into it. If I am too aggressive, they will sense it. From behind me Blood asks, “You know there is no need for Archibald to hear about this. He and I go back a ways, he might not have mentioned it, but I have known him since I we were boys. It is true that we have not seen each other in many long years. However, his patronage to the Lord Dragon keeps this city strong. Can I count on your…discretion?” As he finishes his sentence he stops mere inches from my face, left eyebrow raised. This is it, “Of course. Discretion is key, plus maybe this can be the beginning of our relationship. Any friend of my father’s is a friend of mine.” Blood smiles and gestures to Geoff, suddenly my hands are freed from their restraints. Instinctively, I bring them forward and begin to rub my sore and irritated wrists.

Blood turns to his throne, he takes a step towards it before stopping. He turns back to me and says, “Shall my men escort you back to your manor?” I take a half-step back before answering, “Oh no need! I do not want to raise any unwanted attention. If they could just see me out of the barracks, I would be extremely grateful.” Blood nods and sits down, “Do you want us to speak to the sisters on your behalf? Make sure your dealings with them can continue.” I try to hold my facial expression; however, my insides are jumping. I assumed the job was a wash, however, if the dragons are willing to help me, I might be able to sell all of those statutes before they even arrive.

I try to regain a regal stance, straight backed and all, “That would be greatly appreciated. With any luck a deal can still be reached by the end of the day. Besides, the sister’s faith and mourning should not be delayed by a simple…misunderstanding.” Blood nods, “Ah yes, their faith.” He looks down solemnly, before roaring his head back in laughter. It was not a normal laughter, or even his chuckling from before. This was darker, almost manic. Before, I could understand what was going on Blood’s intense, blink-less stare was upon me, he nodded at Geoff, and suddenly I felt a fist make contact with the right side of rib cage. My body crumples to the floor as I place my hand there trying to do anything to ease the pain. I feel a boot from behind kick me forward until I am sprawled out on the floor.

I see Blood’s boots approach my face, his eyes have the same unhinged look upon them, but his voice is calm, “Son, where is Archibald Stone?” How the bloody hell am I supposed to know? I only have one chance, bluffing, “He is at home. Awaiting my return with a purse full of coin.” As soon as I finish speaking, I feel a foot kick the left side of my ribs. I guess Geoff was not done with me. Blood squats down grabbing me hair and lifting my head up, “Listen here you blithering idiot. All the heads of the Major Houses are out of the city. I will not tell you for how long or where they went. Regardless, there is no way you wouldn’t have known that if you were who you claim you are. Though I think you might have been trained a little too well. Tell me, how is my old pal Aimen?” Blood smashed my head into the ground and releases my hair.

The fact that my face is being hidden by the floor has never been more useful than it is now. My mind races, I should be thinking of how I am going to get out of here alive, but all I can think about is, ‘How does Aimen know Blood?’ I guess my pause was too prolonged for Blood’s liking because I felt one of his boots rest itself on the back of my head, “Relax boy,” he starts, “I doubt you will tell me anything about Aimen. However, you will have to tell him much about this interaction. Seeing as you now work for me.”

As Blood finishes, he removes his boot from my head, Geoff places his hands under my arms and helps me to my feet. I am now face-to-face with Blood, without thinking I utter, “I will never help you get Aimen. Just kill me.” Blood roars in his manic style of laughter, “Boy if I wanted Aimen, I would not use you. I know his pets are loyal. No, I need you to help me with a bigger fish. Have you ever wanted to meet the Lord Dragon?” My jaw goes slack, Blood continues, “He will be here in the next month or so. I need to make sure that Dunway is ready for his arrival. You are to help me control the…less savory elements of the city.”

My confusion continues; I cannot fathom being associated with the dragons. The situation is unfolding at a breakneck pace, and I have no control. Blood yells for the guards at the door to show me out. After or a moment of so, I feel hands clasp each of my shoulders pulling me out. After a stride or two I say, “I have not accepted your offer.” The guards hold me still as Blood strides toward me, suddenly he strikes my face, hard, and fast. I feel my nose break, I bite the inside of my cheek, the room goes blurry, and I fall to the floor clutching my nose. Blood says, “You do not need to accept this offer. If you are not here by midday tomorrow, I will burn down the slums house by house until I find your precious Aimen. I doubt he wants to see me again as much I would like to see him.” Blood turns on his heels and heads to his throne.

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,” I could hear Aimen’s words echoed in my head as my mouth fills with blood. The taste of copper immediately overwhelmed me as my vision slowly returns to focus. Forcibly, the dragons grab me by my collar, lifted me to my feet, and shove me back towards the door. I spit out the dark reddish liquid on the ground and mutter the rest of Aimen’s saying, “and someday, there won’t be anymore.”